#i need to see more of their relationship on screen

[kamaluhkhan]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.” 

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall. 

11:09am. 

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play. 

“that was before.” 

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.” 

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.” 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp. 

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together. 

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways. 

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?” 

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.” 

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.” 

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones. 

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior. 

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black. 

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.” 

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm. 

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel. 

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook. 

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name. 

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?” 

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.” 

“so….where do i fit in?” 

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.” 

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases. 

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?” 

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself. 

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday. 

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in. 

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed. 

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.” 

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note. 

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible  — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips. 

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.” 

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions. 

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay. 

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!” 

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….” 

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need. 

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you. 

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else. 

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore. 

you’re a friend. 

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on. 

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals. 

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly. 

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods. 

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol. 

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.” 

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!” 

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.” 

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.” 

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.” 

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck. 

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know. 

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?” 

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.” 

you cheers, keeping eye contact. 

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.” 

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.” 

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum. 

“lucky her.” 

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink. 

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud? 

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods. 

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.” 

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.” 

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.” 

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right? 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored 

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are 

v ⚽️

pls u love it 

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that 

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?” 

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor. 

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight. 

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.”

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt. 

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking. 

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look. 

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee. 

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.” 

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.” 

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer. 

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class. 

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible. 

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance. 

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me 

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza 

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

<3 

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide. 

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.” 

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints. 

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles. 

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum? 

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

ok 

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again. 

nice, but different. 

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice. 

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too. 

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.” 

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

“f-fuck,” vi groans. 

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough. 

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages. 

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong. 

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me?? 

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong. 

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks. 

there’s no answer. 

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries. 

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled. 

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi? 

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work. 

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah. 

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming. 

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.” 

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.” 

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i  —”  vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening. 

there. 

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made. 

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence. 

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.” 

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you. 

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.” 

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand. 

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.” 

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.” 

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler. 

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.” 

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye. 

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone. 

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch. 

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back. 

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights. 

two minutes left in overtime. 

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions. 

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal. 

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point. 

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure. 

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest. 

vi takes a deep breath. 

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them. 

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field. 

and this is the winning point. 

the whistle blows. 

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her. 

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair. 

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.” 

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in. 

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour. 

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw. 

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom. 

“powder!” 

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!” 

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds. 

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you. 

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady. 

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life? 

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white. 

deep breaths. 

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along. 

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe. 

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?” 

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….” 

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you. 

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?" 

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point. 

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her. 

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless. 

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit. 

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest. 

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it. 

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...." 

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin. 

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago. 

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for. 

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.” 

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself. 

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love. 

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter. 

you’re out with someone else right now. 

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake 

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

k

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together? 

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents. 

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe. 

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.” 

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless. 

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made. 

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work. 

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously. 

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.  

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired. 

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. 

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue. 

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.” 

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically. 

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi. 

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway. 

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip. 

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next. 

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real. 

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?” 

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond. 

you shake your head. 

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.  

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence. 

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.  

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[kiwriteswords]

I kinda need Hotch accidentally hurting shy!Readers feelings…I need angst with a happy ending!

What's Left Unsaid [Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Love to write some shy!reader/hotch dynamics! Also playing out with the gifs and graphics I make for fics a little bit more. Thanks for the request!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, alcohol mention, team outing, bar setting, fear of commitment (stemming from both sides), happy ending but left a little open to interpretation, shy reader, mentions of Beth, mentions of the breakup with Beth, mentions of Jack, Dad!First!Mentality!Hotch, Friends with Benefits, Secret Relationship, Hotch's POV

Summary: When Hotch reveals to the team the reason he doesn't want a relationship, it hurts your feelings because the two of you have been secretly seeing each other, and you're wondering if it is going anywhere.

Hotch sipped his beer, trying to appear relaxed as he leaned back in the booth. The chatter of the team mingled with the ambient noise of the bar, but his attention was subtly tuned to you, sitting just a bit too far away for his liking. In his peripheral vision, he watched you laugh softly at something Rossi said. The sound was like music, and it made him smile, albeit briefly.

You and Hotch had been seeing each other secretly for a few months now. It started casually, two colleagues seeking comfort in each other after long, taxing cases. But slowly, the physical connection had deepened into late-night talks, shared dinners, and quiet evenings watching movies on the couch after Jack had gone to bed. Neither of you had put a label on whatever this was blossoming into, both hesitant to complicate things further. Hotch, especially, feared the implications of wanting more.

The first time it happened, it was almost by accident. You and Hotch had been the last to leave the BAU after a grueling case that had stretched over several weeks. The weight of the ordeal was palpable, lingering in the air like a thick fog. Hotch had offered to walk you to your car, a gesture of simple politeness, but when you reached the parking lot, neither of you seemed ready to part ways just yet.

"Want to grab a late dinner?" Hotch had suggested, his voice low and a bit hesitant. You were surprised; Hotch was always reserved, focused on the job, rarely stepping beyond the professional boundaries he so rigidly set for himself. But that night, something in his eyes—a shared tiredness, a mutual need for decompression—made you nod in agreement.

That dinner marked the beginning of what would become your secret connection. It wasn't planned or discussed; it just naturally evolved as you both found comfort in each other’s presence outside the high-stakes environment of the FBI. The diner meals became a routine, a way to unwind, and slowly, those meetings shifted to more personal settings. Hotch invited you over to watch a movie one evening when Jack was away at a sleepover. You brought over a classic film and takeout and found comfort in the quiet companionship that filled his living room.

You were naturally shy, a trait that often made you a listener rather than a speaker in the noisy dynamics of the team. Hotch noticed this early on. He learned quickly that you communicated more in silence than most did in conversation. He appreciated the quiet moments with you, how you seemed to understand the weight of words left unspoken. But he also knew he sometimes had to coax thoughts out of you, especially when he sensed something was troubling you.

One such evening, as the credits rolled on the screen, he turned to find you lost in thought, a distant look in your eyes. "What’s on your mind?" he asked gently, careful not to startle you out of your contemplation.

You hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Just... thinking about the case," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. But he knew there was more—you often carried the emotional burdens of your work longer and deeper than most.

"It’s more than just the case, isn’t it?" Hotch prodded softly, giving you the space to open up at your own pace. Over time, he had become adept at navigating your shyness, offering you security in his steadiness.

You looked at him, the trust in his gaze encouraging you to share your fears. "Sometimes, I wonder if we ever really make a difference," you confessed, your voice tinged with the fatigue of the many losses you had witnessed.

Hotch listened, nodding, never pushing too hard, always patient. He shared his own doubts and hopes, a rare glimpse into his inner world that made you feel even closer to him.

These moments deepened your connection, transforming it from a simple comfort into something more profound. Yet neither of you dared to define it. Hotch, especially, was cautious, weighed down by the responsibility of being a father to Jack. His previous relationship with Beth had ended amicably but not without its scars—particularly for Jack, who had grown attached and then had to cope with the loss when she moved away.

So, Hotch held back, fearful of repeating the past, even as his feelings for you grew. And you, understanding his concerns, reciprocated the silence on the nature of your relationship. But as the months passed, the unspoken bond between you became a silent promise of support and companionship, even if neither of you yet had the courage to give it a name.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder of an unread message from earlier in the day—something mundane about Jack's soccer practice. He glanced at you again, taking in your shy smile, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. He wanted more, so much more, but the fear of another loss for Jack held him back. It wasn't just about him or even about you; it was about Jack, too.

The conversation shifted, and suddenly the focus was on him. "Hotch," Prentiss started, her tone light but curious, "you ever think about dating again? It's been a while since Beth..."

The question hung in the air, heavier than the smoke swirling above them. The team's eyes were on him, but his flicked to you. He saw the slight stiffening of your shoulders, the curious tilt of your head as you waited for his answer.

He hesitated, his mind racing. "I... I can't imagine putting Jack through that again," he finally said, his voice more gruff than intended. "Getting attached to someone, and then... if it doesn't work out..." He trailed off, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

The team nodded, understanding his protective nature over his young son, but you didn't. He saw the hurt flash across your face before you masked it with a small, polite smile. You excused yourself to the restroom, and Rossi gave him a knowing look, one that said he might have just made a mistake.

Hotch's heart sank. He wanted to go after you, to explain, but he was anchored to his seat by his own fears and the eyes of his team. He drank more deeply from his beer, trying to wash down the guilt.

When you returned, the barrier between you was palpable. You kept your answers short, your smiles forced, and though the team didn’t seem to notice, Hotch felt every inch of the growing distance.

The night ended with the team going their separate ways, and Hotch found himself walking you to your car. The air was chilly, making him wish he could reach out and pull you into his warmth. "About earlier," he started, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Hotch," you cut him off, though your voice was softer than usual. "I understand. Jack should be your priority. I wouldn't ever want to come between that."

"But you wouldn't," Hotch found himself saying, the words rushing out in a torrent. "It’s not just about protecting Jack. It's... I’m scared of asking for more and then losing it. But what I said it wasn't fair to you. I do want more with you if you want that too."

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Really?" There was a cautious hope in your voice, one that made his heart twist.

"Yes, really," he affirmed, stepping closer. The space between you felt charged, his fear momentarily eclipsed by the need to make things right.

You nodded slowly, considering his words. "I need to think about it, Aaron. I... I want more too, but I don’t know how to... not with how things are right now."

Hotch nodded, understanding. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here," he promised.

As you got into your car, Hotch felt the weight of your words and his own fears. He watched as you drove away, the taillights a red blur in the night. Maybe it was time to confront his fears, not just for his own sake, but for Jack's, and perhaps, for whatever chance he had with you.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[writingwithciara]

blinking lights -quinn hughes-

summary: with planes grounded for the holiday due the snow storm, y/n & quinn are forced to spend christmas together. but oddly enough, neither of them seem to mind much

word count: 3.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

note: i LOVE writing roommate quinn honestly

"i'm sorry mom. i won't be able to make it home this year. all flights out of vancouver are cancelled." y/n looked at the website opened on her laptop. her mom was sighing on the other end of the line. "i know. i'm sorry. but i should be able to visit in the new year. i promise."

"it's okay honey. i'm just glad that you'll be safe." her mom sighed again. "are your roommates stranded too?"

"i'm not sure. quinn left earlier to catch a flight so it's a possibility."

"well for you sake, i hope you're not alone for the holidays."

"i hope so too, mom." y/n looked up when the door opened. "gotta go, mom. quinn's home."

"okay sweetie. i'll call you tomorrow."

"alright. sounds good. love you."

as y/n hung up, quinn sat next to her on the couch.

"no luck?"

"unfortunately." y/n sighed and closed her laptop. "i'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"yeah. it kinda sucks. it's the first christmas i won't be able to see my family."

"at least neither of us will be alone this year."

"fair point." quinn chuckled and turned on the tv. "what should we watch?"

"frosty the snowman. always makes me feel better."

"got it." quinn smiled and put the movie on. he glanced around the bare apartment. "since we'll both be here for christmas, why don't we decorate? we can also combine traditions and do them together."

"i guess it beats sitting in an empty apartment. we definitely need some christmas spirit in this place."

"strongly agree. we'll go out tomorrow to get some decorations and we'll make a day of decorating and traditions."

"alright." y/n turned her attention to the tv screen. "my mom is supposed to call me tomorrow and she may want to talk to you."

"why?"

"i don't know. i suppose it's because i talk about you a lot but i think she's not sure if you're a guy or a girl. never really specified, honestly." she smiled. "i'm only telling you now so you're not completely shocked when she calls."

"alright." he smiled. "should i expect any questions?"

"she'll probably asked why i'm living with you and stuff like that."

"okay. i think i can handle it." quinn smiled.

after the movie, they both went to their rooms to get some sleep. decorating their apartment was going to be a huge task but if anyone could do it, it's y/n & quinn.

the next morning, y/n woke up early and sent her mom a text.

hey mom. i'm going shopping with quinn today and we're gonna be decorating our apartment after. i'll call you later, alright? love you <3

the second she heard quinn moving around in his room, she smiled and put on a pot of coffee. y/n watched him walk into the kitchen slowly. he smiled at her and sat at the counter.

"ready to shop for decorations today?"

"you bet." y/n smiled and poured them each a cup of coffee. she was excited to spend more time with quinn than she was used to. for the past 3 years, she had been harboring a crush on her roommate but the timing to tell him was never right. he was almost always in a relationship and his girlfriends barely liked her. they tolerated her, at best. and that was why she didn't spend a whole lot of time with him.

when the time came, quinn drove them to the seasonal store downtown. they went their separate ways once inside so they could get the decorations faster and have more time putting everything up.

while walking down the 'gifts for her' aisle, quinn saw something on the shelf that he knew y/n would love. it was so perfectly her that he just couldn't pass it up. he couldn't help the way his heart beat faster just thinking of what her reaction would be. he was so far gone for her but didn't want to risk pushing her away. especially not when she was finally spending time with him again.

it took 20 minutes to get everything and quinn insisted on paying for everything. he didn't y/n to see the gift he was getting her.

when they got home, quinn quickly hid the gift in his room, deciding he would wrap it tonight and give it to her in the morning. by the time he made it back to the living room, y/n had all the decorations sorted out in piles based on each room they were going to work on.

"so i figured you could get started in the kitchen while i worked out here. fair warning, i may need your help after."

"then why don't we work together?" he chuckled. "wouldn't that make more sense?"

"well i was going to play christmas music and when i dance, it looks weird."

"i highly doubt that." he smiled. "i've seen you dance before."

"that was always choreographed or because i was drunk. but i'm sober and don't want to make a fool of myself."

"y/n, i don't think you're capable of doing such a thing. just let me help you out here."

"alright, fine. but no judging me on my dance moves, hughes."

"i would never." quinn smiled and grabbed a box of lights. he grabbed the necessary items to get started while y/n put some music on the speaker. "wanna start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?"

"yes sir." y/n grabbed the other decorations and went across the room. halfway through the 3rd song, quinn was done hanging lights. he turned to look at y/n. she was dancing and in her own little world and quinn couldn't help but admire her more. how could she think she'd look like a fool? he thought she was beautiful and one day, he was going to get the courage to tell her.

when y/n turned around to grab something, she noticed quinn staring at her. it suddenly made her self conscious. "what?"

"nothing. i was just watching you dance."

"oh. i'm sorry about that. i told you i looked like a fool when i dance sober."

"quite the opposite actually. it was pretty cute." he chuckled and headed to the kitchen to start decorating, leaving y/n to stare with red cheeks.

it took her a minute to follow but when she finally got to the kitchen, quinn was already halfway through decorating.

"wow. you work fast." y/n smiled and instead of offering to help, she just leaned against the counter and watched him.

"yeah. sorry about that. i just couldn't help myself. i know you wanted to help with the decorating."

"no. it's perfectly fine. i like observing." y/n smirked and pulled out a mug. she poured herself some hot chocolate and sipped it while quinn went back to work. while he worked, y/n climbed onto the counter and smiled. this was the perfect way to admire quinn without feeling too guilty.

by the time quinn was finished, y/n had a mug of hot chocolate made for him. when she handed it to him, their fingers brushed against each other, causing y/n to draw her hand back quickly. the moment was interrupted when y/n's phone was ringing. she glanced down at the caller id.

"it's my mom." y/n showed him the phone and hit the 'accept' button. her moms face filled the screen in seconds. "hey mom."

"hey sweetie. how's your day?"

"it's good. quinn and i have been decorating for an hour. the place looks amazing. wanna see it?"

"in a minute. i want to meet your roommate."

y/n looked up and held the phone out to quinn. he took it and moved to stand beside y/n so they'd both be on the screen.

"hi. it's nice to finally meet you."

"oh my. you're certainly not what i was expecting."

"y/n informed me that you would say something like that." he smiled.

"how's it going, living with my baby?"

"mom!" y/n turned her face into quinn's shoulder while he chuckled.

"it's great. we're having the best time." he couldn't stop smiling. y/n's head fit perfectly in his shoulder. it was like a dream come true to have her this close. "she's amazing and probably my best friend."

"i'm glad she has such a good friend, honestly. i was so worried about her."

"you don't have to worry about her now. she's in good hands." he chuckled and threw his arm around y/n's shoulder. she grabbed the phone from him and smiled.

"alright. we gotta finish decorating. i'll talk to you later. bye mom. i love you."

"bye you guys. love you too."

after she hung up, y/n turned to quinn. "i'm your best friend, huh?"

"yeah, actually." he turned to stand across from her. "and it kind of hurt when you distanced yourself a little bit over the last 2 years. thought it was something i did. but i'm really glad you're coming back around."

"yeah i'm sorry about that. but none of your girlfriends liked me so i thought it'd be easier for your relationships if i wasn't around a whole lot."

"why didn't they like you?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged and turned to refill her mug. "but for the record, you're my best friend too."

"glad to hear it." quinn smiled slightly before walking out to the living room. although he had just called her his best friend, he didn't like hearing the word come from her mouth.

"quinn," y/n called out after him as she followed him into the living room. "i'm never going to distance myself from you again, okay? it was hurting me too."

"i'm sorry you felt like you had to give me space. and i'm really sorry they didn't like you. i don't understand why they didn't. you're one of the most likeable people i know."

"i try to be. and i don't understand why they didn't. but it's all in the past and i've learned from my mistakes." y/n sat and looked at him. "i can never stay away from you, quinn. it'll probably kill me."

"well i'm glad you're sticking around because it would probably kill me too, if i'm being honest." he turned to face her and smiled. "so, are there any traditions you have with your family that we can do tonight?"

"my mom and i usually bake cookies and eat some random take-out while watching home alone or how the grinch stole christmas. but we don't have to do that."

"why not? it sounds like fun."

"you'd really want to bake cookies with me?" y/n's eyes widened and she couldn't help the way her smile grew.

"of course. if it makes you happy, then i'll do anything."

y/n tried to ignore the way her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. never in her life had she met a guy so willing to do anything she had asked. it took everything in her not to launch herself across the couch and kiss him. she had to keep reminding herself that they were just friends.

while they baked cookies, both of them enjoyed the closeness of the other. side by side and covered in flour. usually, quinn hated messes but with y/n, he didn't care.

when they put the cookies in the oven, quinn wiped his hands on a towel.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you order dinner and pick out the movie. i'll be out in a bit." quinn didn't wait for her to reply. he just headed into the bathroom to shower. he spent half an hour in their and when he got out to get dressed, he realized that with his quick exit, he forgot to grab a new shirt from his room. the one he was wearing was covered in flour but luckily the rest of his clothes were fine. he put on his shorts and walked out into the hallway.

y/n looked up from the couch and watched quinn walk into his room. she only got a brief look at him but she was still speechless, regardless of having seen him without a shirt many times. she quickly turned her attention to the tv when he came walking back out to join her on the couch.

"food should be here in 10 minutes and i decided to go with home alone this year. is that okay?"

"it's perfect." quinn smiled and threw his arm around the back of the couch. the couch was big enough for at least 7 people but they were sitting on the same cushion. not close enough to be touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other. and every few seconds, quinn's thumb would rub against y/n's shoulder. but neither of them seemed to care.

when the food arrived, quinn went to grab it. and when he sat back down, he was closer to y/n than before. as they ate, y/n tried not to focus on the closeness of her best friend. it was hard but she was able to do it.

until he swung his arm back over the couch. he may as well have just placed it across her shoulder with the way his hand was resting there. as they watched the movie, quinn had moved his arm down to where it was actually resting across y/n. she looked at him with an innocent smile, which he adored, then went back to watching the rest of the movie.

when the movie was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched. "well i'm gonna get ready for bed."

"before you do, i was wondering if you wanted to take part in one of my family's traditions."

"it's not going to be something weird, is it?"

"no." he smiled. "unless you count wearing matching pajamas to bed on christmas eve."

"oh my gosh. my family does the same thing." y/n giggled. "wait, do we have matching pajamas?"

"yeah. i bought them a few days ago and was intending to give you a pair before i left for the holidays but i guess it was just meant to happen this way. be right back." quinn smiled and ran to his room. he returned seconds later with the pjs. "i hope you like them."

"they're a gift from you, quinn. i always like those." y/n smiled and headed into her room to change. quinn did the same and they managed to come out at the same time. all he could so was admire the way the clothes fit y/n perfectly. "how did you know my size?"

"because i know you." quinn chuckled, not wanting to admit it was because he stared at her so long that he memorized everything.

"you're the most perfect roommate, quinn." she smiled and threw her arms around him. "thank you."

he immediately hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"okay. well it's bed time now. i'll see you in the morning. good night quinn." y/n ran off the her room to try to get some sleep. but she knew that would be impossible, due to the overwhelming attraction she was feeling. if she didn't tell quinn soon, her emotions were going to shut her down.

as quinn sat at the desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about how excited y/n had been when she came out in the pjs. he had seen her happy many times but there was just something different this time.

he wrapped her gift neatly and set it down beside his bed. it was going to be the first thing he grabbed in the morning and he hoped she would love it as much as he loved her.

when the sun rose the next morning, quinn grabbed the box and headed out to the kitchen. y/n was normally a morning person so he was surprised that she hadn't woken up yet. he set the box on the counter and began making coffee. just as he was adding the finishing touches to y/n's coffee, she walked out of her room.

"good morning, quinn."

"good morning, y/n" he smiled and handed her the coffee. when she took a sip, her whole body instantly warmed up.

"this is the best coffee i've ever tasted. thank you." she grinned and continued to drink it as they both made their way onto the couch.

"so what else does your family do for christmas?"

"we stay in our pjs all day and spend time together. it's pretty boring but if you're around the right people, you can have the best time."

"well then that's exactly what we will do today." quinn smiled. "oh, before i forget, i have a present for you. close your eyes." he got off the couch and grabbed the gift from the kitchen before returning. "i hope you like it."

y/n unwrapped it carefully and opened the box. she pulled out a teddy bear with a canucks jersey on. and not just any jersey. a demko jersey. he even came with mini goalie pads and a helmet.

"i know how much you love thatcher so when i saw this, i just knew i had to get it for you."

"i love it so much. thank you, quinn." y/n set the bear down and hugged quinn. "i didn't get you anything. i'm sorry."

"it's alright. you being here is enough of a present for me." he rubbed her back and smiled. when y/n pulled back a little, her whole expression had changed. she was still happy but there were tears in her eyes.

"i appreciate that, quinn. but i feel like it's just not enough to make you truly happy."

"y/n, you're more than enough. you are the perfect gift."

y/n smiled and placed her lips on his. he was shocked at first and just as y/n was about to break the kiss, quinn pulled her closer and kissed her back. they stayed in that position for a few minutes before either one of them wanted to let go. when they separated, quinn rested his forehead against y/n's and smiled.

"if i had known that would be the outcome, i would've told you those words a long time ago." he smiled and held her face. "i've been wanting to say it for as long as i've known you but the timing was never right. you had steven and i had my own relationships. but i guess that's kind of a cowards excuse, huh?"

"nothing about you says 'coward', quinn." y/n smiled and closed her eyes. "you're the most kind, patient and sweetest man i've ever known in my life. these last 3 years of random relationships and hook-ups have all brought us to this exact moment. the moment where i can finally tell you that i've had the biggest crush on you for the past 3 years. i know it sounds insane but i like you a lot quinn. and maybe that's why your girlfriends were always jealous. they could probably tell how i felt and they didn't want me around to screw up their chances with you. that's why i had to keep a distance from you. i didn't want to have to make you choose between me and them because it would've been a losing battle for me."

"if that had ever happened, you would've won every single time. i never really cared about all those other girls. the only one that matters to me, is you. and i hope i conveyed that well enough in that kiss."

"seems pretty evident now." y/n smiled and finally opened her eyes. "guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"not at all." quinn smiled. "like you said, the last 3 years of random relationships have brought us to this moment right here. the most perfect moment." he placed a kiss on her lips again but didn't give her enough time to reciprocate. "i love you, y/n. everything about you is so perfect and it's been driving me crazy for 3 years."

"i can't believe that the planes being grounded are the reason we're here together."

"me either. but i wouldn't change it for anything."

"i wouldn't either." y/n leaned up to kiss him again. "for the record, i love you too."

[ourhees]

THE SUNSHINE AFTER THE STORM ❨𝖲𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭❩

𝒊𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗗 .. ❛ 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf! ot7 x gf! reader── && slight angst and fluff + argument and mention of not eating ❔ 𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖯 & 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖲

◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ ╱ 𝑠𝑎𝑣 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠 : sav comeback did so well, had to spoil my dolls even more 💌 enjoy !

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

heeseung walked in late again. ever since he picked up a new position at his office, he’s been coming home late nonstop. you knew he’d be more busy, but coming home at midnight for weeks straight, you grew a little fed up. tonight, you couldn’t hold back your frustration.

“you’re late again..” you said, your arms crossed along your chest. “how many times is this going to keep happening?”

“i’m trying alright? it’s just really busy.” heeseung sighed, rubbing his temples gently.

“but i’m here waiting for you! every night. i stay up extra late to spend time with you, but i cant, because you’re tired and you want to sleep.” you shot back, your hands trembling.

“i didn’t mean for it to be like this..” heeseung said quietly, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you. “im sorry princess, ill try to come home early so we can be together.”

you look up at him, frustration and sadness still lingering. “i just need you to be here..”

“and i will be.. okay?” heeseung kisses your forehead, his arms never latched off you. ( 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 𝖴𝖭𝖣𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖴𝖳 )

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

you and jay were enjoying a quiet evening at home, you sat on his lap as the two of you got caught up in eachother’s affection. what originally was a night of laughter and affection quickly disappeared when jay would constantly check his phone.

“jay?” you asked politely, frustration lingering on your voice. “can you put your phone down for a second? we’re supposed to be spending time together.”

jay looks up at you, his brows furrowed. “im just checking something real quick. why are you making a big deal out of it?” his tone came out rather harsh than expected.

“im not making a big deal, i just want your attention for five minutes!” you snapped. “you’ve been looking at your phone from time to time all night.”

“im not ignoring you, honey.” jay watched as you got off his lap, sitting a little farther away now to collect yourself. “well it feels like it.” you muttered to yourself, unaware that jay heard.

jay pulls you back on his lap, holding your chin so your gaze is on him. “i didn’t know you were feeling that way. i’m sorry honey, i’ll put it down.”

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

jake had been playing video games all day with heeseung and jungwon. you didn’t mind, considering he worked hard all week and barely got some time for his favorite things. it was one thing for him to barely speak to you throughout the day, but it was another when you felt like he was ignoring your presence.

“jake..” you called out from the doorway, coming to sit on the shared bed. “can you stop playing for a five minutes and talk to me.”

jake glanced over, however his attention quickly went back to the screen. “just one more round okay mamas?”

“seriously?” you couldnt hide your emotions, especially your frustration. “you’ve been playing for hours, you act like i don’t exist.”

jake paused his game, his attention quickly went to you. “im sorry okay? i just wanted a few hours on the game. i didn’t mean to ignore your presence.”

jake got up from his gaming chair and climbed onto the bed. he pulled you close to him, snuggling you tightly. “im sorry mamas.. do you forgive me? if not, i’ll make it better.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

recently, you felt as if your relationship with sunghoon was failing. some nights, you barely slept in the same bed. other times, you’d only have one worded answers to each other’s questions. sometimes when this happens, it causes you to barely eat. sunghoon silently picked up on it, he started to see how this was affecting you.

“you’re barely eating..” sunghoon speaks softly, his eyes soft but serious.

you avoid his gaze, silently surpised he picked up on your behavior. “im fine.”

“no you’re not.” sunghoon looked closer at you, his voice laced with concern. “we haven’t been doing well recently and now you’re not even taking care of yourself.”

you sighed, frustrated. “i cant eat when i’m upset, you know that..” you held your head, rushes of emotions hitting you at once. sunghoon could tell you’ve officially reached your breaking point.

sunghoon moved closer to you, his tone gentle. “i hate seeing you like this. we’ll fix things, but first you need to eat. you need to take care of yourself, and i’ll be here to help you,” sunghoon wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if he was afraid to loose you again.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

jungwon has been going through a lot lately. either something hapoened with some friends, or his family, you couldnt point your finger on it. all you knew was your relationship was slowly declining because of it. jungwon felt more closed off, he wasn’t talking to you like he normally would.

“why are you so closed off?” you asked, your voice shaking. “you used to talk to me about everything.”

jungwon sighed, looking at you. “it’s not that i don’t want to talk .. i just don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

“well i’m here for you!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “you can’t just shut me out when you’re going through something.

“i don’t wanna burden you.” jungwon ran a hand through his hair, trying to process his thoughts.

“you’re not burdening me, jungwon. i want to be there for you.” you quickly responded, pulling him into your arms as you saw tears falling from his glass eyes. “im sorry.. for pushing you away. i really need you.” you heard his sobs, you tried to comfort him by rubbing his back.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖮𝖮

sunoo wasn’t one to cancel plans with you, infact he always looked forward to the days he’d be able to see you. ever since you and sunoo began getting more busy at work as the days went out, it became difficult to see each other. even on days you both were exhausted, you didn’t want to cancel.

“you’ve been cancelling plans alot recently..” you sighed with frustration. “i feel i’m the last thing on your mind these days.”

sunoo looks at you, guiltier than ever. “i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.. work has just been draining me.”

“that’s all you’ll ever say.” you replied, your voice tightening. “i get that, but it’s not an excuse as to how you’ve been treating me lately.”

he sighs. “you’re right.. i’ve been distracted and im sorry.” sunoo runs his hands through his hair in frustration, yet understanding where you’re coming from.

sunoo pulls you into his arms, his tight embrace made you feel better. “i promise to treat you better, even when exhaustion creeps up on me.” you pull him flush closer to you, feeling bad you let your emotions out on him.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

you didn’t know riki would have his friends over at his house today. you sat closely to riki, but no matter how close you say, he continued to ignore you. riki was too caught up in playing games with his friends, he forgot his own girlfriend was right beside him. you felt ignored, and most importantly you felt forgotten about. his friends left, which left you with some alone time.

“why did you do that?” you asked, standing up as if you’re ready to leave. “ignore me when your friends are here?”

“what do you talking about?” riki asks, putting the extra controllers away in a drawer.

“when you’re with them, you pretend im invisible” your eyes grew teary, you tried to look away to fix yourself before he saw you like this.

“oh baby.. i never meant to make you feel like that.” riki pulled you into his arms, you tried to push away wanting some space to yourself.

however, riki wasn’t taking that for an answer. he didn’t like seeing you push away when you’re upset, especially at him. “no baby.. no pushing away. i’m sorry for tonight and i’ll make it up to you.” riki kisses your lips gently, his thumb soothed your cheek.

[miumura]

TREATIN’ ME LIKE AN ENEMY ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ 엔하이픈 🪽 ✦

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ in a secret relationship with your “enemy”

──── enhypen hyung line x f ! r ╱ ⌕ est. but secret relationship, workplace / co-workers au, fluff, comfort ( ? ) ∿ w. petnames, rude co-worker + mention of blood in sunghoon’s ( nothing graphic ) wc. 1.6K+ ( 1645 ) ｡ ｡ might need to make jey into my top 5 bc i love this song 😆

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

LEE HEESEUNG

“You’ll be working with…Lee Heeseung,” your supervisor said to you during a team meeting, unknowingly dropping a bombshell. It left your co-workers to exchange nervous glances around the room. Everyone knew you and Heeseung were practically sworn enemies, your relentless competitiveness with each other being the worst-kept secret in the office.

“So, go sit with your partner and start working on a new proposal,” your supervisor wrapped up the meeting, leaving everyone to scramble around to switch seats.

You chose to stay put, looking extremely disinterested as Heeseung was making his way over to the empty seat next to you. As you glanced at him, he seemed to wear the same look too as he sat down.

He scooted his chair closer to you, opening up his laptop. “Let’s work on this project with no hiccups, alright?” he says, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

To everyone else, you two were like oil and water—certainly not a good pair in other people’s eyes. What your co-workers didn’t know, however, was how Heeseung sneakily chose to get closer to intertwine his hands with yours under the table.

You subtly squeezed his hand back, both of you trying—and failing—to suppress the smiles threatening to creep onto your faces.

They certainly didn’t know how good of a pair you two could be.

PARK JONGSEONG

“Oh come on, you’re avoiding me even when we’re alone now?” Jay teased after trying to get your attention for the past few minutes. “It was just an act, I promise.”

You didn't even look up from your screen. “Suddenly sending me spam emails at once in front of our co-worker, and telling me I can’t delete them because one of them has important project details…” You tried to grit your teeth to hold back your frustration, but the words still slipped out. “And now I have to go through every single one of these with the same titles but blank emails? That’s a bit mean, don’t you think?”

"People were getting suspicious," he said, rolling his chair closer to you, only for you to shove it away with your leg. He just smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. "They said I’ve been too ‘normal’... or I guess, too nice to you lately."

“Well, I rather have a nice boyfriend right now, instead of him watching me go through these emails,” you huffed, your eyes still fixed on the screen. “You could at least share me another copy of it or just tell me now if it’s actually anything important.”

“I would think it’s rather important,” Jay replied, drawing out the last word in a teasing sing-song tone.

Finally, you glanced over at him, your frustration barely contained. He wore a small but sly smirk, his eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Are you going to tell me?” you asked, not sure whether to be more annoyed or curious.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to those emails for that?” He said, causing you to abruptly spin around, with your eyes glued once again.

“You’re really mean,” you said, thinking of the plan to ignore him once again.

He lightly chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking behind you. His hand rested on the back of your chair, and you felt a familiar warmth when his other hand slid over yours on the mouse.

“It’s this one,” he whispered close to your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You jolted slightly, turning to face him, eyes wide in surprise as his heartwarming smile spread across his face. “Why don’t you read it?”

You cleared your throat, your fingers lingering on the mouse as you clicked on the email. But there were no project details—just a simple message:

“Let’s go to the place you’ve always wanted to go to?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned to face Jay, lips parted in surprise as you watched his eyes light up, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“So, what do you say?” Jay crouched down to your level, holding your hand gently.

“Let’s go on a date?”

SIM JAEYUN

"Do you not know how to do a single thing?" you asked in disbelief, flipping through the “messy” weekly report Jake had written.

"Are you seriously trying to criticize my work right now?" Jake shot back, his voice sharp enough to make heads turn outside the break room.

He stepped closer, reaching for the paper in your hand. His brows furrowed, and his expression hardened, his frustration clear as he tilted his head to meet your gaze.

“Do you think you’re my bos—” Jake stopped mid-sentence, his ears perking at the sound of hurried footsteps outside. His eyes darted to the window of the door, catching a glimpse of a group of people quickly scurrying away. He walked closer, double checking to make sure everyone was out of sight.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, his serious demeanor melted in an instant. He turned back to you with a cheeky grin, a sight you started to get familiar with. Without hesitation, he crossed the room to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Not at work, babe,” you said as you nudged him away from you, although you still wanted to be in his embrace. His pouty expression had you lightly chuckling as his hands stayed firmly on your hips.

“Are you really the same person a minute ago?” you teased, wondering how your boyfriend was able to change expressions that quick.

“Is my acting that good?” Jake asked, his grin growing even wider, his pride written all over his face.

"A little too good," you admitted with a small laugh, your fingers tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. "I wonder what you were going to say next? Do I think I'm your... what?"

“Boss,” he clarified where he had left off from, his tone softening as he added, “and we both know that’s not what you are.”

“So, what am I?”

“I think you’re my girl,” he said confidently, but then he quickly shook his head. “Scratch that—I know that you’re my girl.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“And… Y/N,” your co-worker trailed off, his tone suddenly sharp as he glanced over your report. The air in the room grew heavy, and an uneasy silence filled the space. “You’ve done better work than this.”

The sound of a pin dropping could have echoed in the room. All eyes shifted to you as heat rose to your face. Your own gaze flickered from the report in his hands to the floor, shame creeping in.

“Are you going to say anything?” he pressed.

“I’m sorry…” you managed to mumble, your voice barely audible.

“That’s it?” His tone grew harsher, and your eyes darted back to him, surprised by the sound in his voice. “Aren’t you going to reassure us that you’ll do better next time?”

“I…” You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself, but the sting from the broken skin sent a jolt through you.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so—“

“If you don’t mind letting her finish her sentence instead of acting like a jerk, that would be greatly appreciated,” Sunghoon’s voice cut him off, making everyone turn toward him.

You blinked, shocked to hear him speak up for you. The whispers started immediately—no one expected Sunghoon to defend you, not given your so-called “bad terms.”

“Instead of giving her constructive criticism, you’re just trying to tear her down,” Sunghoon continued, his voice calm but serious. He picked up a copy of one of the very reports laid out, flipping through it with sharp precision. “And honestly, I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about anyone else’s work.”

“Excuse me?” The co-worker looked both offended and startled.

“When was the last time our supervisor called your report anything more than average?”

The room filled with hushed murmurs, and you saw the co-worker’s face turn red. He fired back, “Why are you defending her? Aren’t you two supposed to hate each other?”

Sunghoon leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Should I just leave my morals because of some petty label people decided to put on us? I won’t stand by while you talk to her like that.”

“You two clearly have something going on—” the man started, pointing an accusatory finger at both of you, only to stop mid-sentence when Sunghoon suddenly scraped his chair against the floor and stood up.

The entire room fell silent as Sunghoon grabbed your arm, his touch firm but not forceful. Without a word, you stood as well, letting him guide you toward the door.

“If you’ll excuse us both,” Sunghoon said, his voice having an unmistakable edge, “call us back when this team can manage a respectful meeting.”

The door shut firmly behind you, muffling the chaos of the room. Sunghoon immediately turned to you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip with tenderness. You winced slightly, and he frowned. “I’ll get you some ointment.”

“Hoon, you didn’t have to do that…” you said softly.

He shook his head, his hands still framing your face. “Come on, even if everyone thinks we’re enemies, I wasn’t going to just sit there and let someone treat my girlfriend like that. And I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I didn’t think that jerk would keep going like that.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you smiled up at him. “He’s always been like that. I’ve just dealt with it for so long.”

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” Sunghoon said firmly, his hands moving to gently hold your arms. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “Regardless of what people think or what they call us, I’ll stand up for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

‘💬’ ─── this was supposed to be an 0t7 work but i started blanking out 😖 but hey first hyung line work !!

[puckstories]

Sweet Girl | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); None I believe. Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy + birth (ish), only edited once

Summary; The three times Quinn spoke to your belly + the one time he spoke to your baby

Word Count; 5.5k

Author’s note; I love this fic so much, I might make it a universe since I'm a sucker for girl dads + I'm not ready to give baby Scar and Quinn up (: As usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for all of the support! -Honey

When you heard a knock on the door, and opened it to find a package from Amazon sitting on your doorstep, your first thought was that it must be for Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for him to order things online, especially when he was on the road and needed something shipped to the house. And though you often used his Prime account to order things for yourself too, this time you were sure you hadn’t ordered anything recently. You bent down to pick it up, the familiar brown box light in your hands as you brought it inside.

Glancing at the label, you furrowed your brow slightly. It had your name on it, but nothing about it gave you any clue what was inside. Shrugging it off, you left the package on the nightstand by Quinn's side of the bed, figuring it was something he'd ordered for himself, maybe some last-minute necessity he’d remembered while traveling.

The hours passed, and with the Canucks playing in Minnesota on another road game stint, you didn’t give much thought to the package sitting by the bed. It wasn’t until later that night, after the game, that you got a FaceTime call from Quinn. The familiar ping of your phone lit up the screen, and you smiled as his name appeared. You answered quickly, eager to see his face after missing him more than you'd care to admit.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling softly when his face appeared on your screen. His hair was still damp from his postgame shower, strands falling messily over his forehead, and the sight of him looking relaxed in his hotel room after a win sent a warm feeling through your chest.

“Hey, baby,” Quinn replied, his voice soft, but with a touch of fatigue. You could tell he was still riding the post-game high, but the exhaustion of the season was starting to creep in.

You both spent a few minutes catching up—him telling you about the game, the energy in the arena, and you sharing small details about your day, filling in the little gaps left by his absence. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did, but then, as the conversation lulled, Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, like he’d remembered something.

“Did you get the package?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but with a hint of elation as he adjusted the phone, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily confused. "Package?" you echoed, your mind flipping back to the brown box you’d left on the nightstand. "Oh, yeah! That came this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I just left it on your side of the bed."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s lips, but he shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you through the screen. "It’s not for me," he said, his voice a little lower, with that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “It’s for you, for us. I ordered it.”

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly curious. "Really?" Your heart gave a little skip. Quinn wasn’t one to make a big deal out of surprises, but when he did, they were always thoughtful, something that showed how much attention he paid to the little details of your life.

He nodded, a small grin pulling at his lips as he watched your reaction. "Yeah. Go open it," he urged, his voice playful now, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you as you stood up from the couch and padded into the bedroom, phone in hand, feeling suddenly giddy. You picked up the box from the nightstand, shaking it lightly, though it didn’t give away much about what was inside. Setting your phone down on the bed so Quinn could still see you, you grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and sat down on the plush comforter, carefully slicing through the tape, your curiosity growing with every second.

"Any hints?" you asked as you opened the flaps of the box, glancing up at the screen to see him smiling.

"Not a chance," he replied, his voice filled with that playful mischief that always made your heart skip. "You’ll see in a second."

Inside the package, nestled among the packing paper, is a small green-and-white box that immediately catches your eye. You pull it out, flipping it over in your hands to examine the front. The box is labeled "Bellybuds," and your brow furrows slightly in curiosity. You’ve never heard of it before, and the image of a pregnant woman with small adhesive speakers attached to her belly leaves you wondering what exactly this is.

You hold it up toward your phone, angling it so Quinn can see the box through the screen. "What is this?" you ask, amusement coloring your voice as you turn it over again, your fingers lightly tracing the packaging.

On the other side of the phone, Quinn's face lights up, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "It's headphones... for babygirl," he says, his voice warm and filled with excitement, like a child presenting their favorite toy. "We can talk to her, play music, and stuff. Thought it'd be nice for her to hear us more clearly."

A small laugh escapes your lips, the sound light against the stillness of the room, as you glance down at your baby bump, gently resting your free hand on the slight curve of your belly. You look back at the screen, shaking your head affectionately at him. "But we already talk to her all the time," you say with a smile, "do we really need these?"

Quinn shrugs a little, but there’s a certain softness in the way he does it, a sheepish look crossing his face. His grin doesn’t fade, though—if anything, it only deepens as he watches your reaction, his eyes bright with affection. "I figured it could be fun," he admits, his voice quieter now, the tone laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugs at your heart. "You know... just something special we can do. I thought maybe she’d like hearing music, or hearing us talk to her in a different way."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words, a gentle wave of affection washing over you. The thought of Quinn, so excited to connect with your unborn daughter, to create memories and bonds even before she arrives—it fills you with a deep sense of love for him. He’s always been thoughtful, but there’s something about this moment, something about the quiet sincerity in his voice, that makes your heart swell.

You lower the box slightly, your hand still resting on your belly as you glance down at it again. The idea of playing music for her, of letting her hear the rhythm of your favorite songs, or of Quinn’s voice as he talks to her when he’s away on trips, suddenly feels incredibly sweet and meaningful.

"You’re so sweet," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to him, your voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn’t even think of something like this. But I love it."

Quinn’s grin widens at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a flush of pride washes over his face. "I’m glad," he says, his tone lighter now, clearly pleased with himself. "Figured it was something a little different. Plus, I can play her some good music while I’m gone. Gotta get her used to my playlists early," he adds with a chuckle.

A snort escapes you, as you shake your head. "Right, because I’m sure she’s going to love Counting Crows just as much as you do," you tease, your smile growing as you imagine him curating a playlist of all his favorite songs just for her.

"Hey, she’ll have great taste, thanks to me," he replies, feigning mock offense, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s enjoying the playful banter as much as you are. "She’s gonna be the coolest kid around, trust me."

You roll your eyes with a grin, but your heart swells with warmth at the thought of the two of you already imagining what kind of music she’ll like, how she’ll react to the sounds of your voices. It makes everything feel more real, more tangible—like your little family is slowly but surely coming together.

You open the box carefully, pulling out the small circular speakers, running your fingers over the smooth surface. The adhesive pads are meant to stick to your belly, gently transmitting sound into your womb.

"You know," you begin, your gaze flickering back to the phone screen, "I think it’ll be really nice. She’ll get to hear your voice more often when you’re away for games... it’ll be like you’re still here, even when you’re not."

Quinn’s expression softens at that, his grin fading into something more tender, more intimate. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet warmth. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being away, especially now. But this... I thought it could help. Like, she’ll know I’m still with you two, even when I’m on the road."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can feel the emotions welling up inside you, your eyes watering as you look at him. The way he talks about your daughter, the way he’s so thoughtful and attentive to both of you, makes you fall in love with him even more. You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your face as you press your hand a little more firmly against your belly, feeling the weight of your daughter resting there.

"She’s going to love hearing your voice," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "And so will I."

1

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as he speaks into the microphone of his phone. "Daddy here," he adds softly, his tone filled with warmth and tenderness, like every word is wrapped in love.

He shifts carefully on the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb you from your deep sleep. The dim light from his phone screen casts a soft glow over the room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the fan and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. Quinn settles back against the pillows, adjusting himself so he can be closer to you, his body leaning into your side.

His free hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of your tank top before gently coming to rest on the curve of your baby bump. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s afraid he might wake you if he presses too hard. But even in your sleep, the warmth of his hand resting on your belly sends a sense of comfort through you, as though even unconsciously, your body knows that he's there. His thumb starts moving in slow, gentle circles over your bump, a calming rhythm that has become second nature to him—his way of connecting with both of you.

His eyes soften as he gazes down at the swell of your stomach, where your baby girl is growing, nestled safely inside you. The sight still fills him with awe every time he sees it—the miracle of life forming between you both, the quiet anticipation of becoming a father. He leans closer, careful not to disturb the Bellybuds that are attached to your bump, the small adhesive pads delivering his voice directly to the baby through the connected cord in the phone.

"Just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he whispers softly, his voice low and full of affection. "Before I go to sleep tonight."

The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile as he speaks, his thumb continuing its gentle movements over your belly, tracing slow, lazy circles. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. It’s something he’s done often lately—these quiet talks with your baby girl before bed. He knows she might not fully understand, but the thought of her possibly hearing his voice, growing familiar with the sound of her dad, fills him with a sense of happiness he can’t quite put into words.

"I had a long day, and I know you’re probably resting too," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a kind of quiet wonder. "But I couldn’t let the night end without saying goodnight." He leans forward just slightly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of your belly, the warmth of his lips barely touching your skin. "I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. Every day, I think about what it’s going to be like when you’re finally here with us."

There’s a pause as he glances up at you, still sound asleep beside him, your breathing steady and peaceful. The room feels still, but in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more present. His eyes flicker back down to your belly, the small life growing inside, and he feels the overwhelming sense of love flood him once again—an emotion so strong it almost takes his breath away.

"I promise I’ll always take care of you," Quinn whispers into the microphone, his voice dropping even lower, as though he’s sharing a secret just between him and his daughter. "And your mom, too. We’re a team, the three of us. And I’m gonna do my best to make sure you have everything you need, to keep you safe, and to love you more than anything in this world."

His hand moves slightly, his palm now resting flat against the curve of your belly, feeling the faint, subtle movements beneath. Sometimes, when the timing is right, he can feel her respond, little kicks or shifts, as though she knows he’s there. It’s in those moments that the reality of fatherhood feels most real to him, the little reminders that soon, she’ll be here in his arms.

"You’re already so loved, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he speaks into the microphone, his gaze never leaving your bump. "Your mom and I... we talk about you all the time. What you’ll be like, what you’ll look like. I think you’re going to be perfect. And I can’t wait to see who you become."

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and Quinn takes another breath, feeling the warmth of your body beside him, the closeness of your shared space. He glances back at you, his heart swelling with affection as he takes in the peaceful look on your face, the way you look so serene in your sleep. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing lightly against your skin.

"I’m so lucky to have you," he whispers, his voice barely audible, meant only for your sleeping ears. "Both of you."

For a long moment, Quinn just lays there, his hand resting protectively over your belly, his heart full of so much love he can barely contain it. He thinks about the future—the late-night feedings, the first steps, the endless love he’s ready to give to both you and your daughter. It all feels so real, so close, and he can’t help but feel grateful for everything you’ve built together.

After a few more moments of quiet, he shifts slightly, letting out a soft sigh as his hand lingers on your bump one last time. "Goodnight, sweet girl," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice full of tenderness and love. "I’ll see you soon."

2

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here." Quinn speaks into the microphone of his phone, the sound laced with a soft chuckle as he follows you around the kitchen, making sure the Bellybuds stay securely attached to your baby bump. Every step you take, he mirrors, careful not to let the wires tangle or the pads come loose.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that tugs at your lips as you shuffle around the counter. "Quinn, I’m trying to cook," you say, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"It’s not my fault Mommy got out of bed before I could say good morning, right, sweet girl?" His grin widens as he speaks into the phone, leaning in slightly as though your daughter, nestled safely in your belly, can hear him more clearly that way. There’s a lightness in his voice, full of the kind of joy that comes naturally when he’s talking to your unborn child—like he’s already practicing the loving banter he’ll share with her once she’s here.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you move back to the stove, carefully flipping the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. The kitchen is cozy, the rich, savory smell of breakfast filling the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing on the counter. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops, and the whole scene feels peaceful, wrapped in the simple comfort of a Saturday morning.

Quinn trails behind you, keeping close, the ever-present grin still on his face. His eyes are filled with that familiar playful glint, the one that tells you he’s not taking any of this too seriously—but at the same time, you know just how much these moments mean to him. He takes every chance he can get to bond with your little one, to talk to her, even if it’s just silly things or affectionate words whispered against your belly. It’s something you’ve grown to love even more about him during this pregnancy—how committed he is to being present, even before she’s here.

You shuffle across the kitchen to grab a plate for the bacon, and as you do, Quinn follows closely behind, adjusting the Bellybuds’ cord as you move. You shoot him another glance, one eyebrow raised, even as a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for morning skate?" you ask, your tone teasing as you gesture vaguely toward the clock on the wall.

Quinn shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, his hand resting on your bump for just a moment before he drops it back to his side. "Nah," he says with a playful smirk, "I’ve got a few minutes. Besides, what’s more important—hockey or talking to my daughter?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he shifts his focus back to your belly, speaking directly into the microphone. "See, sweet girl? Daddy has his priorities straight. Morning skate can wait."

You let out another huff of amusement, shaking your head as you plate the crispy bacon. "Priorities, huh?" You glance at him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I’ll remember that the next time you’re in the playoffs."

He laughs, the sound rich and easy, and steps closer, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind, careful not to disrupt your cooking. You feel the warmth of his chest press against your back, the familiar weight of his body comforting as he leans his chin gently on your shoulder, peeking around to watch you cook. His hand slides down, resting protectively over your bump, his fingers splayed across your belly as if he’s trying to feel every little movement she might make.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer now, his lips brushing your ear, "she’ll always come first. Even during playoffs."

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you pause in your task, turning your head just enough to catch his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, that quiet kind of love that’s always been there, but seems to have grown even deeper during this pregnancy. You lean back into him slightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly still.

"I know," you murmur, your hand resting on top of his as it cradles your belly.

The moment stretches on for a beat longer, before Quinn presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back with a playful grin. "But seriously," he adds, "we can’t have her growing up thinking she's not the light of my life."

You laugh, the sound bright and easy as you turn back to the stove, flipping the eggs that are now starting to sizzle in the pan. "No, we definitely can’t have that." You agree, amused.

Quinn leans against the counter, still keeping a close eye on you as you move around the kitchen, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Besides, I think she’s already going to have pretty high expectations for you," you say, glancing at him with a smile as you finish cooking, setting the eggs and bacon on the table. "Talking to her every day, following me around like a puppy..."

He shrugs again, not even trying to hide the grin this time. "Hey, I’ve got to make sure she knows she’s got the best dad in the world, right?"

You shake your head, laughing as you move toward him, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he pulls you close. "I think she’s going to know that no matter what," you say softly, your eyes meeting his, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the kind that’s full of love and gratitude, the kind that says more than words ever could. "I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but full of warmth.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. You glance down at your belly, where the Bellybuds are still securely attached, and grab his phone from his hand, bringing the microphone to your lips. "And I know you love daddy too, right sweet girl?"

3

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here," Quinn whispers softly into the microphone, his voice a murmur in the stillness of the night. The house around you is silent, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside the window and the gentle sound of your breathing as you sleep peacefully beside him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden light over the room, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of comfort.

Carefully, Quinn adjusts the Bellybuds, making sure the small adhesive speakers are securely attached to your growing belly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he does. Once satisfied that everything is in place, he leans back against the pillows, settling himself beside you and letting out a quiet, contented sigh.

"You're due to come see me and Mommy very soon," he begins. His free hand moves to rest gently on your belly, the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin as his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over the curve of your bump. "And we're so excited to finally meet you."

The smile on his face widens as he speaks the words aloud, the reality of it sinking in more and more with every passing day. His heart swells with emotion, a mixture of excitement and nerves at the thought of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. He’s imagined it a thousand times already—what it will feel like, what she’ll look like—and yet, he knows nothing can truly prepare him for the moment when she finally arrives.

"We have your nursery all set up," he continues, his voice full of pride. "Mommy picked out the prettiest colors and decorations. And she bought you so many cute outfits... I know you’ll be just adorable." His words are filled with affection as he thinks about the hours you spent meticulously planning and decorating the nursery. He remembers the way your eyes lit up with excitement every time a new package arrived at the door—tiny clothes, soft blankets, little shoes too small to seem real.

Quinn chuckles softly to himself, his thumb still moving in slow circles over your belly. "I can already picture you wearing those little onesies. Mommy’s got good taste," he says with a grin, though his voice softens as he adds, "You’re going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, and I can’t wait to see you."

The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His gaze drifts back to you, watching as you shift slightly in your sleep, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He loves these quiet moments with you, when the world feels small and the love he has for you and your growing family feels like the only thing that matters.

"You're our first, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, as if he's sharing a secret meant just for her. His thumb continues its rhythmic motion on your belly, grounding him in the moment, the connection between the three of you palpable. "So Mommy and I... we might not be perfect. We’ll probably make mistakes, and we’re still learning. But I promise you, we’ll always try our best for you."

The sincerity in his words hangs in the air, a promise that he knows will shape the rest of his life. Fatherhood is something he’s thought about for so long, and now that it’s just around the corner, the weight of it feels both exhilarating and humbling. He knows there will be challenges, sleepless nights, moments of doubt—but he also knows that the love he feels for you and your daughter will guide him through it all. It already has.

"Daddy loves you," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice filled with all the love and devotion he can possibly give. "So much. And I can’t wait to show you just how much when you get here." He leans down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your belly, his lips warm against your skin.

+1

Scarlett Eloise Hughes was born on July 2nd, arriving into the world at seven pounds, four ounces, with the tiniest tuft of brown hair and the clearest green eyes you’d ever seen. From the moment you heard her first cry, a quiet, delicate sound that filled the room, your heart swelled with a love so overwhelming, it felt like nothing else existed beyond that moment. Time seemed to slow as the nurses moved around you, murmuring their congratulations as they swiftly began their work.

The delivery couldn’t have gone smoother. It was as if Scarlett herself had been eager to meet you and Quinn, arriving just two hours after you checked into the hospital. Your contractions had come on strong that morning, starting as a dull ache and quickly intensifying until you knew it was time.

But even considering the relative ease of it all, you were exhausted—utterly spent in the best possible way. The rush of adrenaline from labor, the flood of emotions that came with bringing new life into the world, had left you physically and emotionally drained, but also more fulfilled than ever before.

You watched through hazy eyes as Quinn, who had been by your side every second, stepped forward to cut Scarlett’s umbilical cord. The nurse handed him the scissors, and though his hand trembled slightly, his face was full of awe. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he gently snipped the cord, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was such a simple act, but in that moment, it felt monumental—like a bridge between pregnancy and the start of your new lives as parents.

Once the nurses had gently taken Scarlett away to clean her off, weigh her, and perform the routine newborn checks, the room felt quiet, almost surreal. You lay back against the pillows, your body heavy with fatigue but your heart full of love. Every so often, you could hear the soft sound of Scarlett’s tiny cries as they swaddled her in a warm blanket and placed her in the bassinet.

Then, at last, they brought her over to you.

The moment they placed her in your arms, everything else melted away. Scarlett was so small, so delicate, her skin still slightly flushed from the effort of being born. Her tiny fingers curled reflexively into a fist, her eyes blinking up at you as though she were trying to focus on the face she had yet to fully see but already knew so well. The warmth of her little body pressed against yours made your chest tighten with emotion, and as you gazed down at her, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Hi, Scarlett," you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned your forehead against hers for just a moment, taking in her scent, that unmistakable newborn smell that was somehow both sweet and comforting. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Scarlett blinked again, her tiny lips parting slightly as she made a soft cooing sound, and in that moment, it was as though your entire world had shifted. Every hope, every dream, every little piece of your life had led to this—this beautiful, perfect baby girl in your arms.

You shifted her gently, positioning her so you could nurse her for the first time. Her tiny mouth latched onto your breast instinctively, and the sensation was both strange and wonderful all at once.

It was breathtaking moment, just you and her, connected in a way that felt profound to you. You could feel her little body relax against yours as she fed, her breathing evening out, her tiny fingers resting against your chest.

Tears filled your eyes again, and you glanced over at Quinn, who stood watching silently. His eyes held a mix of emotions—joy, admiration, and a deep, unwavering love. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment she was born, but now, watching you nurse Scarlett, that smile softened into something more tender, more meaningful.

Once Scarlett finished feeding, you gently lifted her and cradled her close to your chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into your arms, like she was meant to be there all along. After a few moments, you met Quinn’s gaze and smiled softly.

"You're up next, daddy." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn nodded, his throat visibly working as he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to overcome him, though you could see the eagerness in his eyes.

"Take off your shirt," you added, remembering the advice about skin-to-skin contact. You wanted him to experience that bond, the warmth of her small body against his, just as you had.

Without hesitation, Quinn pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He stepped closer, his movements careful and measured, as though he were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. Gently, you passed Scarlett into his arms, watching as he settled into the chair beside your hospital bed.

The second Scarlett was in his arms, her little body resting against his bare chest, something changed in Quinn. His entire posture softened, his shoulders relaxing as if every ounce of tension had melted away. He held her with the utmost care, his large hands supporting her tiny head, his thumb brushing gently across her back as she nestled against him.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed down at her in awe. "Daddy here."

Scarlett’s small hand flexed against his chest, and Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned his head down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

The sight of them together—the love radiating from Quinn, the peaceful way Scarlett settled into his arms—filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness. This was your family now. The three of you, together, bound by the deepest kind of love.

Quinn rocked gently in the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face, as though he were committing every detail of this moment to memory. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you so much. You have no idea."

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you watched them, your heart full to bursting. This was everything you had hoped for and more—a moment of pure, unfiltered love. "She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Quinn glanced up at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "Yeah, she really is."

[devosin]

— FUCK I'M PATHETIC !! ♡. Synopsis : Ever seen someone on a screen as a child, and thought, “I’ll marry them when I grow up!”, . . well Kunikuzushi—more popularly known as the WANDERER—a famous artist and even more well-known singer who took the stage by storm 8 years ago, taking over the media for his various scandals—took that idea a bit too seriously. He swears it was just a small interest in you, in your life—the obsession with how you hit your downward spiral from fame—he was curious, as most fans were, but fuck did that obsession spiral only downwards—ever since her saw you again, the Y/N L/N—previously an actor and even singer part time, had left the stage presence about three years ago—when news of their divorce hit the media and everyone was in shock—you and your ex-husband were the first couple people would name when listing they’re dream fairytale life, and yet everything on screen wasn’t always true—for the last couple years you’ve been figuring out your life with your, now 6 year old son, and the in’s and outs of co-parenting . . recently you’ve decided to re-enter the media—only to meet an artist, who’s more then a little interested in your life.

— What to expect ? ! : Celebrity au, modern au, tortured artist core, smau, complicated relationships, stalker x stalkee, forced proximity, age gap (user is older by 5 years), twisted wonderland crossover, comedy, Scaramouche is well . . boy failure, single parenthood, reader is gender neutral but referred to as 'mama' or 'mommy', slowburn, co-parenting, obsessive themes, mentions/usage of drugs, suggestive themes . . ♡

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, once a week !! " for everyone losing hope and their faith in love, in need of a reminder . . . <3 "

♡. profiles : our main leads . .

PROLOGUE !!

♡. grwm emo edition ♡. nara smith wannabe

— taglist ♡ ; tba . . .

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[notashadowbutawave]

I honestly think a lot of this is just in the text with Tommy's dialogue to Buck - about how he doesn't have community like Buck has at the 118, about how he wasn't always out but came out later, how working under Gerrard was oppressive, how he doesn't have a great relationship with his father, how he hasn't always been comfortable with himself. They actually are pretty directly calling attention to this in the majority of Tommy's scenes, I think! It's fascinating to see what they did with such limited screen time and dialogue. Lou Ferrigno Jr is turning in a really sensitive and nuanced performance with not a lot of material to work with, and based on how many times they raise these things, I do think that's kind of the MAIN thesis of his character. But what's really great about it is that he's not REDUCED to that - he seems to have a pretty rich lived experience, he's funny, he has hobbies and interests and obviously he's a badass firefighter helicopter pilot.

maybe I give the writers too much credit but I do think they find these nuggets of real human experience to wrap into the drama cycles and horror effects and over the top disasters and to me that's why the show works so well. like it has an honesty at its core and I think Tommy is a very very good example of that, and one that maybe rings truer for many of us than, say, Hen and Karen, whose stories are very much about them as mothers. (I think there's a different conversation that needs to be had about how 9-1-1 doesn't have a queer femme story that isn't made more palatable by making it about family domesticity, but this show is of course ALWAYS about family, especially found family and messy family and blended family, because it's Americana propaganda at its core)

but yeah - for those of us who maybe didn't explore our queerness meaningfully until we had already started establishing ourselves as adults, for those of us who don't have kids and don't know what the future looks like for us in that way, for those of us who grew up being called slurs simply because we were different before we even knew we were queer... yeah. That's a fucking amazing character to put in your primetime procedural soap. I love and need more Tommy Kinard in this show. And Lou is really knocking it out of the park. Just outstanding work by him. get him in a gay romcom NOW

You know, as clunky as Josh's Glee speech was, I really think the SPIRIT of it reveals just why Tommy is such a divisive character, and I honestly think it's because Tommy is AT LEAST an "elder millenial" and possibly late Gen X (cause fuck a timeline am I right?) and portrayed pretty accurately to that experience, and a lot of the people who are so rabidly against him are much younger. And they just cannot fathom the world that queer millennials, elder millenials, and Gen X grew up in and had to survive in. Like, the rules were different guys. So, so different.

So yeah, it makes perfect sense to me that Tommy resonated DEEPLY with a lot of older queer people and a lot of younger people just don't understand why he would.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: angst

Series masterlist

The soft sound of the baggage carousel echoed in the dimly lit terminal as Noah stood there, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. The past two days passed so quickly.

With the two days of traveling, performing and then traveling again, he had barely had time to think—except, of course, for one thing: you. And Luna. The thought of you two had never left him during the long hours on the road.

Noah smiled faintly at the thought of finally coming home. Even though only two days had passed, it felt like weeks, and now he just wanted to come back to you. He couldn’t wait to hold you again, to feel your arms around him, and to kiss you the way he had been missing.

Despite the physical exhaustion, his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He realized something during these past two days away: that no matter how Jason looked at you, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, like he wanted you all for himself, the way he would go to the café just to talk to you, the way he would prentend to be so nice and kind now, he knew the truth.

You were Noah’s. And Noah was yours.

And the distance had done him good. Two days apart had helped clear the fog from his mind. He wasn’t going to let that gnawing insecurity eat at him anymore. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his peace, his relationship, or what he had with you. It didn’t matter how Jason looked at you or said—it was Noah you came home to. Noah you loved.

And that realization brought a sense of relief he really needed.

The soft murmur of his bandmates laughing and talking pulled him back to the present. Matt was the closest to him, fiddling with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, while the others were cracking jokes about the tour.

"You almost tripped, I saw that!" Jolly laughed.

"Me? Nah, it wasn't me." Nicholas tried to convince him.

Noah chuckled to himself, his gaze softening.

He really couldn't wait to get his baggage, travel a couple of hours more and get home to you and Luna, but before that moment arrived, something caught Matt’s attention.

He had been aimlessly scrolling through Twitter, a little too tired to engage, looking at memes and raccoons pictures, but out of habit, he found himself looking up posts from the previous night’s show. Just some fan reactions and thoughts. And then, unexpectedly, it happened.

He didn't understand immediately. Why was that picture tagged as 'bad omens'?

Matt’s fingers froze as his thumb stopped scrolling. There was a photo, blurry and grainy, from a distance. It wasn’t much—taken at night, the porch barely lit—but there was enough detail to recognize that house. The one Matt has been many times to visit Noah, the one he’d been so proud of.

It was Noah’s house.

And standing on the porch, framed in the dim light, was you.

But you weren’t alone.

A man was standing too close to you—Matt didn't know who he was but he had a feeling he could easily guess. His hand was placed on your arm in one of the pictures, in another one, your hand was on his chest, your faces just inches apart.

Matt’s stomach twisted, and he leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the figure. This wasn't about him, it was about Noah, but still, his heart pounded a little faster as he clicked on the image to enlarge it.

Then, he looked at a couple of other pictures and a short video. It was you for sure. And that was Noah's house.

@/Erikka_1999, the original poster, had tagged the post with #badomens, #NoahSebastian, and #homewrecking. The hashtags were cruelly apt.

Matt didn’t need to see the comments to feel his stomach turn, this was the last thing he wanted to happen to his friend. But still, he scrolled down.

@/user7216: What the fuck is this?

@/noahstwitchstreams: wait is that Noah's gf?

@/lisa_omens: What is Y/N doing????

@/olisykesdavis: girl, not when noah is in another state

@/bomensandmore: This is so messed up...who tf is that man?

@/silent-stories: let's not jump to conclusions guys!!

@/concreteoomens: I KNEW ITTTT

@/noahsdailys: maybe they broke up??

@/user2727ii: they were together 2 days ago???

"Shit," Matt muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration. His first instinct was to confront Noah, but even before he got the chance, the band began to gather their things, preparing to head toward the exit. Matt hesitated, then stood up quickly, phone in his hand.

He needed to talk to Noah. He needed to show him. He deserved to know.

Noah was standing by the baggage claim, his attention half on the carousel and half on his thoughts. The sight of the suitcases coming out on the conveyor belt didn’t even register to him; he was lost in the image of you, of coming home to you and telling you that the way be reacted in the past couple of days was a bit too much, that he was just scared of losing you, that he loved you.

He imagined the softness of your hands, the way your lips would feel pressed against his neck as you whispered his name again. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing you.

But then Matt was in front of him, holding up his phone up for him to see.

"Hey, man," Matt said, his voice unusually tense. "You need to see this."

Noah didn’t immediately register the urgency in Matt’s voice. "What’s up?" he asked, glancing up in confusion.

Matt shoved the phone toward him without another word, and Noah, a little confused, looked at it.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, everything seemed to stop.

He could feel his blood run cold, his body stiffening as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. The first thing he saw was the porch—his porch—and there, standing in the weak light, was you. And the man standing far too close to you—no mistaking it—was Jason.

Noah’s breath hitched, and a cold sweat prickled down his neck. He didn’t even need to look at the hashtags, didn’t need to see the comments. He already knew what was happening. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was betrayal. There was no explanation for the short video showing of you pushing Jason into the house.

His hands started to shake. His chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of the world pressing down on him, suffocating him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“This... no. This can't be. Not again." His voice cracked as he whispered the words, trying to deny it, trying to make sense of it all, but he knew. He knew in his gut what this was.

Jason had been lingering, making his move, and now he was there—at Noah’s house, with you. The person Noah loved. The one person he thought he could finally trust and wouldn't stab in the back when he left for just two fucking days.

"I'm sorry, man." Matt whispered.

Noah's breath came in short gasps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He didn’t even hear Matt's words.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse and strained, barely holding it together. His gaze was still fixed on the screen, but he could no longer process the image. The betrayal was all he could feel. “Tell the others. I'll... I'll be right back.”

Without waiting for Matt to respond, Noah turned sharply on his heel and made his way toward the nearest bathroom, his heart heavy with the weight of everything crashing down on him for the second time in his life.

His mind raced as he pushed through the terminal, each step feeling like it was taking him further away from reality.

He shoved the bathroom door open, the bright lights inside feeling too harsh against the overwhelming darkness creeping in. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him and he realized no one else was there, Noah collapsed against the cool tiles, his back pressed against the wall, his knees weak beneath him.

His breath was ragged now, coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He felt like someone was pressing on his chest with a boot.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs. But all he could do was sit there, utterly devastated, his mind replaying the scene over and over— your hand on Jason's chest, you pulling him inside his house.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

His heart felt shattered, the pieces scattered and irreparable.

You were one of the most important people in his life. You were the one who proved to him that he was capable of loving again after Hannah had left him. You were the one who showed him that it was possible to be loved by someone who wouldn’t leave or break his heart a second time. Or so he thought.

Noah pressed his palm to his face, the weight of the betrayal almost too much to bear. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his skin and tangled in his own hair, trying to find something, anything to steady himself. But nothing worked. Nothing would ever fix this.

He hoped it was all just a bad dream, that any moment he would wake up next to you, at home. But as the minutes dragged on, the cold of the tiles beneath him became unbearably real.

He found himself wondering whether you would still be there when he got home, or if, like he had seen Hannah do once before, you would have already packed your things and left. He cursed himself for being so stupid, believing that this time things would turn out differently, that the universe wouldn't play the same trick on him once more.

The world outside felt distant, muffled, as he sat there alone in the bathroom, surrounded by the deafening silence of his own thoughts.

The morning light filtered through the window, gently brushing against your closed eyelids. You woke up suddenly, feeling a strange heaviness on your body. A deep breath, your heart racing a little faster, and then it hit you: you had fallen asleep on the couch, and Jason was still there, beside you. The scent of alcohol and smoke lingered in the air.

Damn it.

You didn’t even have time to check the clock before you were already shaking Jason, stirring him awake with urgency in your voice. "Hey! Jason! It’s time to get up, you need to leave. Get out. Of this house. Now." Your voice trembled, frustration and maybe a little panic slipping through as you tried to shake him out of his heavy sleep.

"Jason! C'mon! Get the fuck up! Go away and I never wanna see you again."

Jason stretched, his eyes barely open, but when they fluttered fully awake, his expression was one of confusion. "What? Y/N, calm—" but he didn’t finish his sentence.

Just then, the front door opened. Noah walked in, his steps heavy and deliberate, and the moment he saw the scene, his face paled, his breath catching in his chest. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

The air seemed to freeze. Jason’s eyes snapped towards Noah, and for a split second, everything went silent. Noah’s gaze was burning with anger, but there was something else there too, he was hurt. He looked at you for a moment, searching your face for an explanation, but the confusion gave way to rage as he took in the situation.

"Get the hell out, dude. Now." Noah’s voice was low, filled with an anger that you’d never heard before. His fists were clenched at his sides, his body tense.

Jason didn’t move immediately. "Man, wait, listen-"

Noah cut him off, voice rising. "I said, get out before I fucking break your face." The words were harsh, cruel, and they hung in the air between them.

Jason tried to speak, but Noah was already walking toward him. He reached forward, grabbing Jason by his jacket and showing him toward the door, not giving him a chance to argue.

Jason hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you.

"Get out of my fucking house!" Noah shouted.

Slowly, he turned and headed toward the door, but just before leaving, he shot one last glance at you. The look in his eyes was the look of someone who got exactly what he wanted, but you barely had time to register it before Noah slammed the door behind him.

This was part of Jason's plan, this was what he wanted. Damn, you had been so stupid.

"Noah..." you began as soon as he started walking toward you again, but the words got caught in your throat. You wanted to explain, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. You knew he was going to jump to conclusions. The wrong ones.

His eyes were hard, though there was something raw in them too. Something that almost broke you. "What the hell is going on, Y/N? What the hell was that?"

You took a step forward, reaching for him, but Noah flinched away from your touch.

"Noah, please, let me explain—"

"Explain?" He cut you off, his voice shaky but full of anger. "What the hell do you want to explain? What is there to explain? He was here, in my house, with you!"

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back, knowing how badly you’d hurt him. "No, Noah, it’s not like that, please. You need to believe me. Jason was drunk. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t want to just leave him on the street. You weren’t here, I didn't want him to make a scene and wake half neighborhood up, trust me, it happened once, and—"

"No, Y/N." His voice cracked, and the pain in his eyes made your chest tighten. "No, this isn’t just some fucking misunderstanding. This is not the first time, isn’t it? This is not the fucking first time you make excuses for him. You’re defending him when he gets into fights, you keep his damn necklace, you try to convince that he's not still in love with you—and now this? What the fuck am I supposed to think, huh?"

His words felt like punches to your gut, and you could barely breathe. "Noah, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I love you. You have to believe me. Please, just let me explain. He was drunk as fuck and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I fucked up but it's not what you think and-"

He took a shaky breath, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even process what you were saying. "I’m not hearing it anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I thought you loved me. But since that motherfucker came back, it’s been like everything I thought I knew is falling apart." He looked at you, his eyes full of hurt. "I can’t keep doing this. Not this time. This... it’s too much."

You felt the tears begin to slip down your cheeks, the weight of it all crashing down on you. "Noah, please don’t say that. Please, I need you to believe me. I’m not—I’m not doing this to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Noah, I love you and I've been so fucking stupid to think that Jason maybe had changed and was a fucking normal human being now."

He stood there, his chest heaving as he took a long look at you. "What do you think this looks like? What am I supposed to think when I come home, and he is in my house, with you? Do you know there are pictures online? Pictures and videos of how he arrived here, talked to you a bit still outside and then you pushed him into the house. You probably didn't see them cause you were too busy fucking your ex while I was away for only two fucking days!"

"Fuck- Noah. You think I had sex with him? You think I really cheated on you?"

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore now!"

"Noah, he was drunk and I didn't know what to do! I didn't-"

"I don’t care!" Noah’s voice rose, cutting you off. "I don’t care. I don’t care what his fucking excuse is. You don’t get to do this to me. Not again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I can’t—" He stopped, his voice faltering for a second, but he quickly steadied himself. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I... this hurts."

Your heart shattered, and you took a shaky breath, staring at him, trying to process what he’d just said. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

Noah’s face was unreadable, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. "I’m saying that I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to. This is the second time someone I loved broke my heart, okay? I can't - I can't do it anymore. I thought you were different. I thought I had something with you. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out everybody leaves me, eventually."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He’d already made up his mind.

"But I don't wanna leave."

"It's better if you do."

"Please, Noah," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please don’t do this."

He looked at you. More than mad at you, he looked so disappointed. "I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. And I don’t think I can." He shook his head, his voice quieter now. "You need to go."

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to make him understand, but you knew it was already too late. The damage had been done.

You stood there, the weight of Noah's words still echoing in your ears, your heart a heavy lump in your chest.

The thought of never seeing him again hit you like a wave. Never again would you fall asleep in his arms, your body curling against his as you spent lazy nights together, watching anime until you both drifted off to sleep.

The way he would murmur nonsense into your ear as his fingers played through your hair, the sound of his rough, sleepy voice in the mornings that always made you smile.

Those little moments you had taken for granted. They would never come again. The mornings when you’d made pancakes, his hands brushing over your waist as he tried to help, the soft touch of his lips against the back of your neck as you laughed over something stupid.

And Luna. The thought of her growing up without you there, without you watching her change and develop into the amazing person she was meant to be. You wouldn’t be there for those milestones. You wouldn’t be there for her, and deep down, you knew she would forget you. She was not even four years old.

Maybe one day, as a teenager, she would find an old drawing made when she was just a child and wonder who that weird shape that looked like a woman next to her dad was.

That thought, that painful truth, made your chest tighten and tears well up in your eyes.

Maybe one day she would come to the café with her friends after a day spent shopping and wonder why that place seemed so familiar, why those cookies she had ordered tasted like home.

You didn't want to leave them. They were everything to you.

What hurt the most was knowing how much Noah had feared this. He had always been terrified of losing you, terrified of being replaced. You’d seen it in his eyes more times than you cared to count—the constant worry that one day, you’d leave him for someone else.

And now, here you were, standing at the precipice of exactly what he had feared. What he thought had happened between you and Jason had only confirmed his worst nightmare. And it was your fault. You had done this to him. It wasn’t what you’d wanted, but the damage was done.

And if you could go back to the night before, when Jason was on the doorstep, you wouldn't have hesitated to slam the door in his face, telling him that if this was all part of his stupid plan to get you back and ruin your life with Noah , he could go fuck himself.

You never, ever wanted to hurt him. If you could have taken back every single mistake, every moment where you had caused him pain, you would have in an instant.

Noah was really one of the best people you had ever known in your entire life. From the very first moment you had met him, you had felt something shift within you, something that you couldn’t fully understand at the time.

He had changed you, and not just in the way that love changes people. He made you see yourself in a new light, a better light. You had learned what it meant to truly be loved—without conditions, without hesitation, without fear. Every moment with him had been a treasure, a memory etched into your heart that you would carry with you forever.

But now, you were left with nothing but the crushing reality that you had shattered the one person who had given you everything. You loved him more than anything else in this world, more than life itself, but now you had to leave, if that's what he wanted. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

"Noah."

"Please." His voice cracked, his brown eyes were glassy. "Leave."

Your vision blurred, and tears started to spill relentlessly down your cheeks.

With one last glance around the room—at the life you had built with him, the house was starting to feel like home to you too—you stepped back.

"I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. You didn't deserve any of it."

You opened the door, knowing that this was the last time. The weight of your heart in your chest was unbearable, but there was nothing left to do but walk away.

You turned away, your heart breaking with every step. You walked out the door, knowing that something inside you had broken too.

Noah stood motionless in the center of the living room, the door closing behind you with a finality that rang in his ears like an executioner's bell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

His body felt frozen, every muscle locked in place as if he was trapped in the aftermath of some devastating dream. His mind buzzed with the cruel reality of what had just happened —of how he had stood there, helpless, watching you walk out of his life.

After all, that was what he asked you to do. He was the one who told you to leave. Or maybe it was his broken heart speaking for him, either way the words had come out of his mouth. And you were gone now.

His chest was tight, every breath a struggle, as if the air itself had become too thick for him to inhale. The ache in his heart wasn’t just an emotion; it was a physical weight that crushed him from the inside out. His head was spinning.

The tears came slowly at first, like a whisper of pain that barely registered, but then they built, a flood that couldn’t be held back any longer. His chest shuddered with the sobs that ripped through him, his face contorting with the weight of his emotions.

He could feel the heat of the tears as they streamed down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. He didn’t care anymore. Every part of him was unraveling, every thought tearing him apart.

He thought of you—God, how he thought of you. The way you had been his light, his strength, the one person who made him feel whole again after Hannah had left him. He had never expected to love again, to trust someone like this, but you had proven him wrong. You had made him believe in something real. And now… now you were gone.

How the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Luna?

Her innocent eyes, the way she trusted him you trusted you. He couldn’t imagine telling her that the person she’d grown so attached to, was never coming back. What would he say? That it was because of something he couldn’t control? That he had been too blind to see what was right in front of him? How could he explain this heartbreak to a little girl who just wanted to see her world stay the same? How could he tell her that the woman who had made pancakes with her, who had hugged her and told her bedstime stories, was just gone?

At the thought of Luna growing up without you—his heart shattered. You two were his family.

Noah sank down to the couch, his hands gripping the fabric, as if holding onto something solid would stop the shaking. His breathing was uneven, ragged, as the tears continued to spill from his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, wishing he could block out the reality that had crashed down on him.

He could still feel the sting of your absence, as if the very air was different without you in it. His chest was raw, empty, and he could barely catch his breath as the sobs wracked his body.

He had loved you so much. Too much. And now he was alone.

The door to the living room creaked open, but Noah didn’t hear it at first. His mind was consumed with the pain of your departure, with the image of you walking away, your back turned to him, leaving him in the ruins of what they had built together. He didn’t even register Luna’s small form standing in the doorway until she spoke.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft, unsure, but it cut through him like a knife.

Fuck.

Noah froze, and for a moment, time stood still. His heart clenched at the sound of her voice—his little girl, standing there, her tiny face full of concern. She was holding Mr.Flop in a hand and she was wearing her favorite pink pijamas. She looked at him with wide eyes, confused by the sight of her dad crying in front of her for the first time.

He quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to clear the evidence of his tears, trying to appear strong, but it was no use. She had already seen him, her big brown eyes noticing everything, even when he tried to hide it.

Luna took a tentative step forward, then another, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. She came closer and then, in the purest, most innocent way, her little voice broke the silence.

"Are you sad, daddy?"

It was the way she said it—so sweet, so trusting—that made his heart break even more. His arms opened instinctively as she reached him, her small body pressing against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Dad's a bit sad right now. It will pass." He sobbed.

Noah held her tightly, burying his face in her hair, unable to stop the flood of tears. He couldn’t stop the sobs that shook his body, couldn’t stop the grief that felt as if it would swallow him whole. His fingers gently stroked her back as he tried to steady his breath, trying to reassure her, even though he couldn’t reassure himself.

“I love you, my Lu,” he whispered through his tears. “I love you so much.”

Her small hand patted his back, as if she understood, as if her little heart could feel his pain.

“I love you too, daddy." she murmured, her voice small.

Noah closed his eyes tightly, letting her words wash over him. The pain of losing you was still there, raw and crushing, but in this moment, holding her, he found a sliver of strength. For Luna. For her, he had to keep going, even when everything else felt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You slid into the driver's seat of your car, the cool leather pressing against your skin as you closed the door with a soft click. The morning light filtered through the windshield, casting a soft glow over the interior, but it felt distant, too bright, too unforgiving.

The silence was suffocating as you took a deep breath. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening around it, trying to steady yourself. After what seemed like hours, the tears had slowed, but the ache in your chest remained, a constant, gnawing weight.

You sat there for a moment, letting the stillness surround you, as if the car could somehow protect you from the world outside. The quiet felt almost unbearable, pressing in from all sides.

The city outside, still waking up, seemed so far away, as if you were in a different universe entirely. Your body trembled, the quiet grief of what had just happened settling deeper with each passing second.

And then, without warning, the flood of frustration and pain burst free.

A scream tore through you, raw and guttural, a release of everything you had been holding back. It was a sound of pure anguish, as if your very soul was crying out. Your voice cracked, your throat burned, but you couldn't stop. You screamed until it felt like the very air around you was vibrating with the force of it.

When it finally stopped, there was only silence again. But it was different this time—empty, hollow, and exhausting. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and you slumped forward, your head resting against the steering wheel as you tried to catch your breath.

That afternoon, the dim lighting of the bar flickered slightly above them, casting elongated shadows across the cracked wood of the table. Jason sat back in his chair, a smug grin curling up on his lips, the scent of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. Across from him, Rick twirled the straw in his drink absently, his spiky black hair glistening under the dim bar lights.

Jason leaned forward, eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief. “You know, man,” he said, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I told you this would work. I was right. Noah and her, they're done. I'm aure they're done. Thank you for leaving in the middle of the road, I guess.”

Rick looked up from his drink, his brow furrowing, the slightest flicker of concern in his eyes. “Wait. What do you mean? You actually think it worked?”

Jason smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. “You heard me. I'm sure they broke up. Just like I said.”

Rick blinked, processing for a moment, his fingers nervously tapping against the edge of his glass. The memories of the past—of all the stupid things they had done together—flickered behind his eyes. He remembered the convenience store incident, the stolen bottles of Jack Daniels, and how everything had spiraled from there. He’d followed Jason then, blindly, and here he was again, stuck in the same orbit.

He remembered the graffiti on private properties, the cops outside his house for disturbing the neighborhood with music in the middle of the night, the arrest for getting into a fight during a band's show in the city center, the time he bought a gun from a complete stranger, when he had lost a bet and had walked naked for thirty minutes through the streets of the town.

But this time, for the first time, Rick felt bad about it.

He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “So... you think she’s gonna come back to you now?”

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table, his blue eyes distant as he considered Rick’s question. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. But who cares at this point? At least she’s not with Noah anymore.”

Rick shifted in his seat, discomfort gnawing at him. His mind was racing, piecing together the past and present. Jason was always like this—getting what he wanted, no matter who he had to hurt to get it. But this? This felt different. He could feel it in his gut, a quiet voice telling him this wasn’t right.

“And if she doesn’t come back to you?” Rick asked carefully, his tone almost guarded. “What then?”

Jason’s eyes hardened, the smirk turning into something colder. “If I can’t have her, neither can Noah.” He took a long sip of his beer. "And honestly, that's all that matters now."

Rick was starting to realize that that was wrong, but he stayed silent, unwilling to question Jason just yet. He had always been loyal, too loyal for his own good. He’d followed Jason into trouble before, and this felt like just another step down a familiar path. But the pit in his stomach kept growing, gnawing at him.

Jason’s eyes gleamed, satisfied with himself, as if he had already won.

Rick took a deep breath, trying to swallow the rising discomfort. He remembered when they were just a little more than kids, how Jason had always been the one with the plans, with the schemes. And Rick had always followed, too trusting, too eager to please. But this? This was different.

“You don’t think...” Rick started. “You don’t think you’re being a little... I don’t know... messed up? I mean, she’s not some... prize, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes flashed, a brief moment of anger flickering beneath the surface. “Don’t tell me what she is, Rick. You don’t get it. She doesn’t belong with him. She belongs with me or no one else.”

Rick couldn’t argue with that. He had seen the way Jason always believed he was entitled to everything he wanted, and in his mind, this was no different. But there was a nagging doubt inside him, something that was slowly starting to unravel the threads of loyalty he had to Jason.

“You really think you can just take her from Noah like that?” Rick asked quietly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Why not? If I can’t have her, I’m damn sure not letting Noah keep her.”

Rick met Jason’s eyes, searching for some trace of the friend he had once known, the one who had stood by him, who had shared his ridiculous ideas and reckless plans. But this time he wasn't sure he agreed with his ideas.

Jason leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “I won, okay? I fucking won, dude. Thank you for your help."

Rick said nothing. He simply took another sip of his drink, the cold liquid feeling like it couldn’t even touch the knot of guilt building in his chest. Part of him still wanted to believe Jason, wanted to go along with it. But another part of him was starting to wake up—to realize how much damage Jason was willing to cause just to get what he wanted.

And Rick wasn’t sure he could be a part of that anymore.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog @whenyouwannafindlove @chey-h @kenjipepsi1

[dailyadventureprompts]

So I've been reading Triangle Agency...

For those not in the know: Triangle Agency is a new weird/corporate horror TTRPG heavily inspired by things like the X files, Delta Green, and Control. You work as agents for the titular organization which sends you out to stabilize reality by dealing with various paranatural Anomalies.

Don't think of this as a review, until I sit down at a table and play this system over a few sessions I won't be able to tell you how well it actually works. What I can tell you is what the game is trying to accomplish with its storytelling and mechanics, and what it's trying to do is interesting.

Unlike a lot of TTRPGs I've read, triangle agency is not interested in giving you a system that you can use to tell whatever story you want. Instead I can compare it to a tabletop version of a choice heavy videogame like Disco Elysium or Bg3: where engaging with the story/mechanics will lead you to one of the endings the authors prepared for you. This is not to say the system is inflexible, that you can't put your own spin on it, GMs can design missions however they want, and player choice is a major focus, but as long as you're playing the game you're furthering the meta story.

As such, this might be the first game that I'd consider running out of the box with only pre-prepped adventures, which is shocking considering how much of a homebrewer I am. Instead, I'd be interested in putting a group of players in this game and just seeing what it does to them, though it'd have to be a very specific group of players than my regular ol gaming group.

The ideal Triangle Agency player is one that's got a primary focus on storytelling over mechanics, who're interested in making big narrative swings happen as a result of their choices. They also need to be comfortable with improv storytelling, as the primary means of interacting with the game requires a quick " what if" session to justify how you're moulding reality into a new shape:

Where another game might have you roll your character's strength for something as simple as kicking down a locked door, Triangle Agency has your party brainstorming a reason why the door would be weak enough for you to kick down in the first place: IE the building has a termite problem, and the hinges were subject to poor storage conditions by the contractor who installed the door. Then you roll. If you succeed, the door is knocked down, the building has a termite problem and has *always* had a termite problem, and an entire human being, Gary the negligent contractor, has been spoken into existence. You are likely to meet him on your next mission.

In many ways this is explicitly like Blades in the Dark's flashback mechanic, except made an explicit part of the game world. Your characters have the same reality distorting abilities of the Anomalies they're hunting, and they have to be careful lest they delete whole swaths of their life trying to angle for a better roll.

This is where we get into Triangle Agency's focus on character, and the secondary requirement that players be the type to get invested in their eldritch business blorbo as they are subjected to various corporate horrors™. This is a game interested in change whether it manifests as choice, trauma, or metamorphosis, and the ante for these interactions is your player/characters investment in the world. Part of this is with your character's contacts, NPCs who are as essential to an agent's build as their anomalous superpowers or their job with the Agency. To give extra weight to these relationships, each one is portrayed by another player at the table, which I thought was an ingenious way to not only take the burden off the GM, but also to give players more screen time even when their primary agent is off stage.

That leads me to the genius primary progression mechanic: The choice between whether to spend time with your Agent's contacts, focus on their Agency job, or delve into the eldritch truth of their powers, and how to split their finite time off between them. Here we get player choice, story, and mechanics all tied together in a neat little package as progression along any of these tracks unlock new abilities while also revealing more and more of the game's secrets. Possibilities for the game's story open up/are blocked off specifically with how the players choose to personally spend their XP, and if that's not a feat of game design ( or more aptly, craft) I don't know what is.

Final Thoughts: Despite having a delightful time reading the rulebook/optional mission pack (Seriously, the vibes are stellar) I don't know if I'm actually going to get to play Triangle Agency at any point in the near future. I think getting the most out of this game depends so much on finding the right playgroup for it and then pouring in enough time to unlock one of the endings. I'd want to see the mechanism of it's story/mechanics/drama play out, but doing so is one heck of a commitment.

However, if you've got a group full of storytellers that are up for the challenge and you're looking for something substantial to play next, I don't think I could recommend it enough.

I'm also going to be keeping my eyes out for longform actual plays of this one, I'd love to see what a group of performers could do with this.

[sold2vlaykz]

I love you more than you do.

(Yandere Millionare E/Ex X FEM! reader!)

Prompt: Your older E/Ex bf can not get over you, has not and tonight he’s come back to claim you as his!)

Warning!! Mild angst, stalking, CNC kiss, towel nudity mentioned, loser reader!, word pretty mentioned, older male yandere.

It was late, you usually did things like this. Stayed up all night despite having school/work tomorrow, you’d spend hours on social media, discord, just because you had nothing better to do with your life.

Your relationship with your family was backwards, sometimes they loved you next they did not.

He hated seeing you sad, the tears rolling down your face as they belittled you. Belittled his sweet little girl.

He wanted to kill them, rip their throats out.

But he couldn’t because he knew it’d hurt you, despite the luxury of a life he could’ve given you after he knew that your pure heart wouldn’t have accepted it.

“I fucking hate this shit.”

You cursed at yourself, arguing with some nobody online while he watched you from your window a gift in hand.

Of course he could’ve watched you from the cameras but it was never better than the real thing.

Of course he’d deal with who you were arguing with later, whoever it was, was soon to be dead on a platter.

But tonight was all about you.

Tonight was the night, the night you’d see him.

You stood up, closing your phone before rubbing your temples and heading to the bathroom. He stood there for a second, waiting maybe a minute or five before he heard the shower water begin to run.

He climbed up the rails into your bedroom window , being quick to hide himself away in a closet.

Your family was away, everyone had something better to do than to be in the house with you.

The smell of you surrounded the room, he’s ashamed to say but it made him horny. He’s only ever been this close to put the cameras in or steal things.

Minutes flew by and there you were. Standing in all your glory in a towel.

Before you dropped it he stepped out, your eyes went wide in surprise as a scream left your lips. It wasn’t long before he covered your mouth with his gloved hand.

He pressed his gun to your back, a smile crept to his face as you trembled.

“Another word and I’ll blow your shit straight off.”

He was lying through his teeth, he couldn’t kill you. God he’d rather kill himself but hey you didn’t know that.

You nodded quickly, his hand slowly moving away from you.

He picked you up and placed you on your bed, careful not to drop the towel. His hands traced your face, then your towel slowly unraveling it.

He didn’t want to fuck you, well not without your consent at least.

You began to cry, whimpers leaving your lips thinking that your dignity was about to be ripped away.

“No, shh. I’m not gonna’ do anything. Just wanna’ feel you.”

His voice was deep, rolled of the tongue so effortlessly.

His hands went down to your stomach, squeezing the skin just to get a feel, cupping your breast gentle, rubbing your thighs. With each move a whimper left his lips, as if he was getting off on just rubbing you.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was cracked and shaky, almost a whisper despite no one being home.

“I’m your husband.”

He spoke blankly, your eyes widened at the golden ring on his finger. You were confused, maybe this was all just a bad dream. None of it made sense.

Well at least not to you, to him you were married. He got your parent’s signature on a contract not too long ago, they were all drunk after a party and stupidly signed a paper not knowing what it was.

Now you were his, all nude and pretty. Sitting there just for him.

He opened your laptop, immediately faced with the discord screening.

He grabbed your hand before pulling you softly towards him, sitting in a chair while pushing you into his lap.

“Won’t be needing this anymore”

You watched him factory reset your whole computer, everything erased. Your whole lonely loser life, crushed.

You didn’t want to seem phased despite the shake in your bones. He looked up at you, looking you in your eyes as if waiting for a response.

“Why are you doing this.”

You heard him groan at your question, before snatching your phone from in the desk. He clicked on your messages before going to the deleted.

“Mm, baby you really don’t remember me?”

He went on a number that was at the very bottom of the list, before recovering all that was gone.

With you on his lap and one hand on your thigh he began to scroll, thousands of messages from almost three years ago. By the looks of it, he was some guy you used to E-date. Until you inevitably blocked him because of the age difference between you two, the jealousy, and possessiveness-despite how much he evidently cared for you.

“All of this, and then you left me.”

His grip tightened, jaw clenched.

The balls to come here without a mask, knowing he wouldn’t have got caught. His gun on the opposite side of you, he just kept staring at it.

“But I forgive you, you couldn’t have done it on purpose.”

A lie he told himself, he began to dig into his pocket. Whatever it was had a circular shape. And god you hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. In the midst of all his shuffling he pulled out a ring.

As much as you hated to say it, it was beautiful.

Covered in diamonds with a ruby in the middle, gold decorating the rims.

“I remember how you said you loved the color red, despite it being a last ditch effort to have a favorite color like everyone else did.”

Considerate, despite the breaking and entering, the threats, the gun. He already had the contract, all he needed was your finger.

His eyes stared like daggers into yours, gray stubble decorating his clean cut facial hair.

“Marry me. Just like we promised all those years ago.”

You could tell it wasn’t a question, it’s either you said yes or you thought he’d blow your fucking head off. When in reality if you said no he would’ve just stalked and harassed you until you had no choice but to say yes. Or kidnapped you-

“Do I have to?”

He froze, nails practically digging in your skin through the gloves.

He picked up the gun before pressing it to the side of your ribcage.

“Do you?”

Is all he said his voice a low growl. A soft yes left your lips, and all was subsided. A smile grew wide on his face from ear to ear as if he didn’t have a gun to you.

“I knew you loved me.”

He placed a kiss on your neck, eyes full of absolute joy. He put the gun down and grabbed your face, facing you toward him. Devilishly handsome with the mind of a psychopath.

“Do you know how much I’ve done to get here, from killing your boyfriend, murdering your teacher, even killed that celebrity you were obsessed with. Just to have you now sitting in my lap with a ring on both of our fingers.”

He kept covering you in soft kisses, you on the other hand trying hard to ignore the bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your so pretty angel.”

Angel, that name ran through your mind like alarms. The day it fell down when he hacked your account and deleted every man from your phone.

“I’m sorry angel I just don’t know what got into me.”

You knew you were going to have passion marks, didn’t know how you were going to explain them to your parents.

“I love you.”

He kissed your lips, he stood up with you in his arms and placed on you the bed. Lips not daring to leave yours.

“Stop-” you mumbled out.

His eyes dropped, sadness filled them.

“It’s me sweetheart, your husband. All those times we said we wanted nothing more but to hold eachother.”

His hands made their way around your back and pulled you closer.

Nose to his area, making the size difference evident.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.

“You can’t run from me, even now if you call the police they won’t catch me and we’ll end up right here.”

He began kissing your neck softly once again, each kiss deepened. He dragged a moan from you despite you wanting to not enjoy it, he knew how to make you feel good.

“Does that feel good baby?”

He knew it did, you could hear his chuckling under your moans, under his slyness.

“We don’t gotta’ do anything. Just wanna’ kiss you.”

He brought his mouth back to your lips, and sadly. You kissed him back, God. You felt his hard on grow the more you kissed him, his loud moans and whimpering just by your subtle touch.

“Say it, say you love me.”

He stopped and looked at you with desperate eyes, despite what he’s done you know how much he’s done for you. The money he sent, the gifts he bought, the reassurance and pure love he gave.

“I love you.”

-“mm fuck.”

God he was getting off by just your words, he turned around and covered his face with his hand. Trying his hardest not to touch himself to your voice like he used to.

“I fucking love you, you don’t know what you do to me.”

He groaned before coming back towards you, innocently kneeling and putting his head in your lap like a lost puppy dog.

Covering your thighs in soft kisses. He dug into his other pocket before pulling out another ring more expensive than the already pricey one.

“I almost forgot, that one was for engagement.”

And you knew, you were in for a hell of a ride.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Talking with @respectthepetty about the finale, and I think I've figured out my biggest sticking point.

We see the incredible care and love that Kan shows his patients, and Tew's mom in particular. We see him ask her for confirmation multiple times. He brushes her hair, asks her if she has any worries, promises to take care of Tew for her.

He calls her Mom. She cradles his cheek. He sits with her while she falls asleep.

We see this scene play out, we feel Kan's compassion for her, we feel his need to help.

And when he and Tew have their confrontation, he says all of this. He talks about how much it hurts to see people struggle with unbearable pain, how the system doesn't care about how well or how poorly people are living, doesn't care about what people want for their life. He gives an impassioned defense of the need for euthanasia to be made legal.

He tells Tew that his mother died the way she wanted to, that she passed peacefully and on her terms. He tells him that she wanted him to be happy.

And we don't see Tew truly understand any of that. We don't get to see him even really process any of it.

I didn't need or expect Tew to become a supporter of euthanasia, or to even fully forgive and understand what Kan did and why he did it. But it seems like what we got instead was Tew accepting his feelings for Kan, and acknowledging that.

So that "I love you" felt... Misplaced.

What good does a confession do when you've got the man you're in love with handcuffed, on your way to turn him into the police.

(The confrontation itself was beautifully done and it hurt all my feelings. But I'm not sure it was in the right place? There was no room to see them struggling with and processing it. Kan's sad nod of acknowledgement and no response was the correct response, but it was also mine, quick I think is not the desired effect.)

Also, Kan volunteerimg to turn himself in, without arguing for his patients who need him -- in his hospital that is desperately short staffed, in which he is the only palliative care doctor; a point that has been made over and over in the series -- also felt off.

I would've been happier with an ambiguous ending, maybe even the exact same one, where we didn't see the cuffs, and weren't sure what was next for them.

(from my understanding, this is basically the opposite of the source material? There's also the comments from the screenwriter that have kind of left an annoyed filter over all my thoughts about the show, but I digress)

Honestly, I may have been okay(er) with the outcome if we had had more of their relationship development on screen, more of them trying to understand each other (that felt very one sided in the end).

Idk.

The show was beautiful, beautifully acted, and had some very important things to say, and it made its arguments well considering the lines they had to tow. But the politics and the moral struggle of the show were embodied in Kan and Tew, and the culmination of that struggle feels like it wasn't given enough space.

[rowie264]

Why Timebomb shouldn't exist in s2 (part 1 - Ekko)

Let's start by analyzing his character. Don't you think there's something wrong here, to put it mildly? Of course, I'm laughing at jokes about the fact that you can't call any character absolutely good in Arcane except for Ekko, but… Don't you think this is a problem? Ekko has no flaws at all. If he didn't have difficulties as the story progressed (and there aren't many), he would literally be Mary Sue.

And okay, even though I find characters without flaws completely unrealistic and boring, it's possible to work with this. Let Ekko be a good guy. Just give him a good conflict and it will be enough to make him interesting to watch.

But there are problems here too. What conflicts does Ekko have?

Chembarons. It's clear with Silco, he died in s1, and this conflict is half gone. But only half, because other chembarons want to take his place. The development of this topic could serve as a good disclosure of Ekko's character. His confrontation with shimmer and Silco in the hope of changing Zaun for the better with his defeat will endow him with flaw - naivety (this is just speculation, because we don't know if Ekko knew that eliminating Silco wouldn't have changed anything - we can only see that how he sighs at this information in s2 ep2). But making him naive is good, because it would give him an opportunity for growth and an additional character arc, because the question arises - what will he do? Fight against the "bad guys" as before or change his approach? Will he get his hands dirty or will he find a "better way"? Perhaps he will try to unite Zaun? Maybe he'll become a chembaron himself, but as a good chembaron? Well, we won't find out, because thanks to Caitlyn for doing all the dirty work - this conflict disappeared on its own.

The Tree. Ekko's personal arc in the s2, which is just drained down the toilet. And no "he ended up in another timeline and then there was a war" is not an excuse, because his entire motivation in s2 is based on this conflict. He starts his journey precisely because of the Tree, but they brushes it aside for the sake of fanservice and a more global plot. Lack of timing is not an excuse for the same reason - fanservice in another timeline is not needed for s2. Exploring Tree and firelights would give a lot of information about Ekko himself. How did he become a leader? Was there anyone who was against his leadership? What personal connections does he have with firelights (friends, mentors, etc)? One such small flashback could reveal his character much more than the entire ep7.

Piltover. Weeeeell, since we have been ignoring the topic of Piltover oppressing Zaun for decades, this conflict disappears by itself. We have more important things to do, like fighting an army of creepy robots and Arcane Jesus.

Jinx. Fucked up on all fronts. Cheap fanservice with alternative Powder instead of revealing his complicated relationship with our Powder/Jinx. I'll explain more later.

In total, we have: Ekko, a character who has not been fully revealed, who does not have depth like other characters (shown on the screen, rather than having to figure it out by ourselves) and whose conflicts either resolve themselves or are forgotten. It was more important for the creators to devote time to the fanservice than to reveal Ekko as an individual and close his personal arcs. Moving to another timeline cuts off the possibility of revealing his relationship with other characters besides Heimerdinger (yes, with Jinx too, but more on that later). But there's also a problem with Heimerdinger, because well, he's so small and fluffy and has a cool mustache, and that's probably why Ekko completely ignores the fact that Heimer was a councilor to the city who had been oppressing Zaun for decades (seriously, Ekko doesn't bring up this topic and has no complaints about Heimer, because creators deliberately omitted this conflict, forgetting that it is illogical for the character as Ekko).

Part 2 - Jinx Part 3 - Relationship

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Your most recent post about how you would(n’t) use Lila was interesting, because after I read how you’d handle a Chloe redemption I thought Lila would make a good counterpart to Chloe for Adrien, an object lesson about how some people can’t/don’t want to be redeemed.

Start out before or near the beginning of the redemption arc with Chloe as the bully with a long history of misdeeds to make up for, and Lila as (Adrien and the audience thinks) a nervous newcomer who told some lies for attention/popularity. Adrien might even think of her situation as Easy Mode or good practice for helping Chloe. Then time goes on, and as Chloe shows signs of improvement, Lila gradually reveals her true nature.

(Chloe post and Lila post for context)

I don't totally disagree. There are versions of canon where Lila and Chloe would be good choices for a nuanced discussion on redemption. For example, if canon was all about the teenage characters and had no adult villains, then Lila would be a great choice for damnation! The problem is that canon didn't take that route or really any route where Lila feels like a good addition to the cast, let alone someone worthy of being Chloe's counterpart in a lesson about the nuances of redemption.

The main plot of Miraculous should have been Gabriel's reveal and downfall. The point of Chloe's redemption should have been prepping Adrien for said reveal and downfall. Through her, Adrien first learns how to cut off someone you love and then learns how to decide if you want to bring that person back into your life. That is a full and complete lesson. Trying to repeat the lesson or supplement the lesson with Lila feels unnecessary for the same reason I don't like her as the new main villain: she's no one. A total rando with no close ties to Adrien or anyone else. Adrien wanting to help her is fine in theory, but hard to see as a valuable addition because she doesn't matter to his character. We have his father, his close childhood friend, and a random girl he barely knows. One of these things is not like the other. That lack of depth removes most or even all of the emotional impact that a failed Lila redemption would have on Adrien. It's not going to have much of an impact on the audience either unless you make some serious changes to Lila.

One of the show's biggest flaws is that Lila is not a functional character. She has no clear motivations, backstory, or even a strong tie to the main plot of seasons one to five, making it hard to care about her. To have her damnation have any sort of emotional impact on the audience, you need to give her those things and have her develop actual relationships. Without that depth, she's an incredibly weak addition to the story who is only here to be a two-dimensional villain. The audience doesn't want her to be redeemed. We want to see her go down! Those are the wrong emotions for a lesson on failed redemption. Failed redemption should be a tragedy if you want the lesson to hit properly. It's easy to give up on people we don't really care about. It's hard to give up on people we love.

Add in the facts that Miraculous already has too many characters and that Chloe's redemption would be a subplot amidst everything else that's going on and I just don't see Lila being worth the screen time it would take to let her have a proper damnation when you're already giving Gabriel a damnation. Plus it's kind of depressing to have one redemption against two damnations and I like to keep the sad elements limited so that they really pop. Damning Lila and then Gabriel would make Gabriel's damnation feel less powerful.

Even if the plan was to redeem Gabriel, I still wouldn't use Lila as our damnation case study. I'd use Nathalie. She's far more interesting and has an actual tie to the overall plot, making her super easy to involve. Her and Gabriel share the screen constantly, making it very easy to contrast them as the story goes on. You can't really do that with Lila and Chloe because Lila and Chloe would never team up in a story where Chloe gets a redemption arc. Canon had to add Chloe's Marinette obsession to make the Lila & Chloe plot work and Chloe's redemption doesn't work if she hates Marinette to that extreme. I don't think that version of Chloe is beyond redemption, but I would never redeem her into Marinette's friend group. Seasons-four-and-five Chloe needs a fresh start with people she hasn't hurt. I don't know if she could ever be friends with Marinette and I don't particularly care to see it.

I love a good redemption, but part of writing those is knowing that there are lines that a character can't cross if you want them to be forgiven and accepted by your core cast later on. It's that whole romanticizing the cycle of abuse thing that I've discussed before re enemies-to-lovers stories and the general concept of redeeming Gabriel. I get why people like it, it's a wonderful fantasy, but for me it's an incredibly hard sell. My suspension of disbelief almost always breaks, leaving me feeling sad and unsatisfied.

[red-room-studi0]

Here's my TurboTime Dev oc

About damn time I actually introduced him, for some reason I had zero motivation to post this guy. But now i'm finally showing him off cuz one, I needed too, and two he's gonna be in another au lol.

SO. Me and my two friends @dani-be-existing @sunn-e-bunare made this au called Deadstock about three game developers that are in a Poly relationship (we call it a polycule lol). And they go through absolute hell (who would've guessed).

So Tucker Tatum is one of the two game Devs of TurboTime, The other Dev being Kensuke ←(link to Ken's character intro). He is a fucking idiot and a loser, Think of Grunkle Stan and Turbo in one person but worse. Yeah, that's Tucker.

Bro has some bad anger issues and hates kids. Which sucks for him cuz Ken and his wife have a kid and they both hate each other (Ain't no way this grown ass man has beef with a 9 year old 😭😭😭).

Tucker is the Game coder/programmer while Ken was the pixel art and visual game designer.

Tucker being the loser he is he vents in his game coding (Uh Oh, shouldn't have done that Tucker).

One day Tucker and Ken got into a heated argument and then Tucker just left the room leaving Ken alone. After left the house and grabbed a couple of beers to calm his nerves, Tucker came back to the house and into the room to apologize and share a drink or two but to his horror all he sees is the games cabinet screen shattered and covered in blood. From what it seems like... Ken was forcefully pulled into the screen from some unknown force.

Even worse, Kens wife Haru walks into the scene only seeing the bloody shattered screen and Tucker by it. Of course, she accuses Tucker of killing her husband and is incredibly upset (I mean who wouldn't). Tucker tried to explain but she had already called the cops and she just wouldn't let Tucker talk.

Tucker had been detained and taken in. The court statements came in and he was found not guilty due to no evidence that Tucker had killed Ken. But he did have to serve some time in jail for not paying his past due payments (classic Tucker).

Tucker attempted to to call Haru with the only call time he had to try and explain things to her but she never answered. So instead Tucker called his next door neighbor and asked her to bail him out. She doesn't like Tucker all that much but Tucker was being an annoying little shit pleading to be bailed out and she finally agreed. But Tucker owed her $200 back.

Tucker somehow got hired to work at a car dealership (that mostly sells trucks) and had to make that money quick (She would not leave him alone till she got paid back).

As for the Cabinet that is covered in blood with the screen shattered and is evidence to try and figure out what happed to ken... Tucker took it (he's living with his neighbor now cuz his home is a literal crime scene), cleaned the blood, fixed the screen and thought it would be a GOOD IDEA TO STILL SELL THE GAME CUZ HE'S SO FUCKING STUPID HE LITERALLY TAMPERD WITH EXTREMELY IMPORTANT EVIDENCE AND SOLD IT TO LITWAK (LITWAK HAS NO IDEA MIND U)

The police found out that the Cabinet was gone and they have no idea where Tucker is living so they wouldn't be able to find him with no clues of his whereabouts and have no idea where the cabinet is. (They stopped to care at this point cuz they're lazy and stupid)

So the case went cold after a while and Tucker just decided to live the rest of his life with his neighbor (cuz he's not risking living inside his own home again in case someone brings the case up again, and trauma. Also he had to pay rent at this point or his neighbor will kick his ass.)

There is more to the story but I'll leave that for later or if Dani or Sunny wanna talk more about it.

[nebulatrifid]

My analysis of Viktor and Sky in Arcane:

I do think Viktor and Sky were acquaintances however they weren't really close. You see this in the flashback where Viktor is playing with his boat as a child. Sky looks down at him but doesn't join him, and instead goes to play with other kids. They did grow up together though, knew each other, but essentially have the same relationship you do with the other people in your highschool graduating class.

This relationship is still something though and is why Viktor helped Sky get a job as his lab assistant. Viktor is definitely portrayed as an introvert in the show and while he probably made small talk with Sky, said hello, asked how her day was going, ect, their relationship was never anything more than coworkers. This is reinforced by him referring to her as "Ms. Young" rather than Sky. During the Progress Day Presentation, Sky also walks in with Jayce but doesn't say anything to Viktor.

After her death, Viktor feels upset and rightfully so. He is the reason she is dead. Viktor is a human being and any human would feel incredibly guilty about what happened. He does take the time to read over her notes and realized firstly that Sky thought they were a lot closer than he did. This makes Viktor feel even more guilty because they worked together for seven years, he should have made more of an effort to get to know her, but he didn't. Viktor also realizes that him and Sky would have gotten along if he knew her better, and maybe even sees part of himself in her (he didn't want to spend the rest of his life as an assistant, Sky probably didn't either).

After leaving Jayce and becoming Jesus, either Viktor or the Arcane creates the version of Sky we see in Act 2 to help him process his grief. The Sky we see is shown to be forgiving of Viktor and supportive of his actions. Their conversations are based on Viktor's perception of her from her notes, and I do think the Arcane also influences this hallucination to guide Viktor along. This is supported by Sky telling Viktor he shouldn't try and heal Vander. She also seems to be assuring Viktor that what he is doing is correct.

In order for Viktor to fully evolve though, he needs to get rid of his humanity. This involves releasing the version of Sky he created since she existed to help him process his guilt. When she says "no you won't" she is reminding Viktor that she is a creation of his human emotions, and that she wasn't the real Sky. Viktor won't miss her because she was talking to himself.

Finally, there are a lot of mirrors in Arcane. If Viktor and Sky weren't close, Sky probably invented a version of Viktor that she fell in love with. Viktor then later created a version of her that he became friends with. I don't think Viktor has any romantic feelings for Sky (this is kind of confirmed by the show creators).

Anyways yeah that's my theory. I feel like Arcane left a lot unsaid and this kind of strings together a lot of the loose threads with Viktor and Sky's character. I wish we got to see more of Sky, but she hardly had any screen time. I also wish we got more of an explanation as to what the purpose of her season 2 character was. I kept expecting them to do some big reveal but she kind of just disappeared and nothing more was said. I personally don't think season 2 Sky was the real Sky, her character just didn't seem consistent with how she acted in season 1.